Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun
by Author of Doom Rin
Summary: What if Link had never come to the Kokiri, fostered instead by another race? Raised as a child of the desert, Link comes to Hyrule to learn the ways of royalty. As the adventure unfolds, a troubling question arises. Can Link betray his own King? Oot AU LZ
1. Origins

As of 10.25.2010, I have updated this first chapter to better fit my expanded version of Hyrule.

This has been a massive undertaking, not quite finished, but almost there. For those who are new to this story, welcome.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

**The Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun**

By Rin

Chapter One: Of Origins

What? Another story, my pale child? So greedy!

Fine. I'll tell you of the Death of the Men.

And you're going to sleep when I am done! None of your pouting! The story begins.

* * *

Once we Gerudo ruled Lake Hylia, back when it was simply 'the gift of Din.' We were not always bandits and thieves, though the Hylians would deny this.

Five hundred years ago, we were once a proud race of hunter-farmers, and we would die for our land, for the priceless treasure of the lake. And die we did, when a madman of a Hylian king decided it was his holy duty to retake the lake, the lake that had never been his to begin with.

Our race simply does not produce males easily; it requires a large enough number of male Gerudo sires to birth enough sons. In those days, one of every ten Gerudos was male. The women of those days were not the warriors we are now, for peace was widespread then, and the men were all we needed to protect us.

The attack came with neither warning nor mercy. The men, used to peace, all fell beneath Hylian blade and arrowhead.

The Hylians set fire to our homes and crops, and we ran, saving as much of our lives as we could, taking harbor in the cliffs that had sheltered us from hail, storm, and fire.

At the end of the massacre, the murderers, their hands still red with the blood of our husbands, gave us the wasted land near the plains, and the desert beyond. The soldiers, their deed done, could not even leave us to our grief. They returned, again and again, to rape our women and steal our heirlooms.

Until at last, we took up our cooking knives and drove the elfin murderers who called themselves Hylians from our beds, led by a woman of grace, Nabooru, my namesake. We rebuilt in the canyon, river thundering ceaselessly below.

We carved our homes into the safety of the cliffs, and our arms grew strong. The sun shone bright and hard, and our skin became dark. The sand raged and our legs grew swift. The wind screamed, and our short, pointed ears rounded. We made walls of stone and mud, and our faces were weathered. Our crops failed again and again in the poor earth, and we learned to make the most of the smallest morsel.

The Hylian men returned for our favors in time, and we were ready for them. The earth drank deeply of the cold blood of the scum, and our hearts grew proud, warriors for the first time we women could remember in our history.

But it was too late for us to escape the sin of our rapists. Batu, who was but a child, grew heavy with a son, and it was he who became our next King…

* * *

This is the world you will live in, for better or worse. Make no mistake, for you are _mine_ now.

…Silly child. You were asleep for half the tale, weren't you? Ugh. What an impossibly long day…

Sleep well, my son. My Link.

* * *

She'd found him not two days ago.

The raid had gone well, at first. After constant raiding, the western villages of the Royal Province of Lake Hylia had fortified themselves, leading the Gerudo raiders to travel further and further east in the Province. They did not raid dry and arid Drought Country – for the people who dwelled there lived on the same knife-thin edge of starvation that the Gerudo did.

The band had collected their due, of coins, grain and oil. Things they needed to survive in their barren domain. On her way out of a terrified farmer's land, Nabooru took a red apple from his trees. It was tart and juicy, just as the others had said. As she savored the fruit, shouts rang out across the lakeshore, accompanied by the clatter of armored soldiers.

Too late she heard the call to retreat, to return to the dangerous, impossible, precarious path in the cliffs. Once on the path, the others were safe from the ungainly soldiers, and the archers.

Running for the plains would leave her vulnerable to Hylian arrows. Vast expanses of treacherous swampland lay beyond Lake Hylia, too far to run to, too dangerous to hide in. Nabooru ran for the forest to the east, a vast and unconquered mass of trees, skirting the strip of land that rapidly narrowed between the lake and the hill which provided her cover from the Hylians.

It was the only path open to her, her sisters were already being hunted like desert hares. How could she bring Hyrule's attention to the same path that had sustained their lakeshore raids for a decade at least?

Without breaking stride, Nabooru gathered herself and leapt into the Fisher's Creek. She paddled across, abandoning her spoils but for the coins and one small sack of grain, her strong limbs moving easily across the current. She pulled herself out of the water, and took up the long, distance-eating gait her teachers had trained into her until it was second-nature to run that way. There – the edge of the forest. Nabooru gathered speed and ducked into the dark cover of the Lost Woods, avoiding low-hanging branches.

No point in covering her tracks in the soft, moist woodland ground, she was used to parched earth, hard rock and soft, dry sand. Instead, she set a hard pace and covered her face with her veil; letting distance and the airborne poisonous spores make her sanctuary.

Somewhere in the dark small masked figures laughed at her, chanting "Lost, Lost! New Stalchildren for the Woods!"

She paid them no mind. Gerudo could navigate the vast desert with only their ken to help them find safe paths, only their instinct to find their way.

No Gerudo would ever be truly lost, even in these Din-forsaken woods. It was another gift the Goddess Din had given to her daughters. Strange shuffling and clacking noises echoed after her as she ran.

Finally, she sat on a fallen log and panted wearily, setting her scimitar across her knees as a precaution.

She took a careful drink out of her canteen, licking her lips for the last precious drops. Sitting back, Nabooru recalled a legend she'd heard as a girl, of the ageless children that lived deep within the Lost Woods.

Children that never grew… never aged…

She herself could never have daughters, as she'd found years before that she was barren.

It was an ache in her heart, a void that desperately needed to be filled. She'd done her best to fill it with other things, things like her duties, training and her small rock garden in her home's courtyard.

And it was working, for the most part. Already she was becoming known for her skills as a top thief, and one of the best bloodless raiders.

If not for the Hylian soldiers, not a drop of blood would have been spilt that night, only the scratch of brush and unforgiving cliff rock against dark Gerudo skin.

Speaking of the soldiers, they should have finished their hunt by now… And left at sunrise, but… it was best to wait till the sunset, to be safe.

* * *

Nabooru spent a restless night high in a tree, falling into a light doze, always waking at the slightest noise. Needless to say, she didn't sleep very much.

She kept her veil tight over her face, for it was spelled to filter pure air from anything, be it sand, smoke, even poison gas. She ate a scarce meal of nuts and tubers at sunrise, and readied herself for the journey home.

Off to the side a scrub creature chattered angrily, silenced by the howls of Wolfos, and the scream of a woman. Nabooru leapt to her feet, tucking her sheathed scimitar into her sash and sprinting off once more.

She found the clearing the howls had come from, the Wolfos already gone. It was empty. No. There was a dark spot of color against the far tree. She approached carefully, hoping this was the sister, be it Gerudo or Hylian, and not some new monster.

"Who are you, are you wounded?" She spoke aloud, putting a hand to the bundle of dark cloth. The woman – the Hylian woman – struggled upright, pale eyes wide and frightened.

"Stay away, Gerudo! Don't kill me!" She rasped in terror, spittle orange with the forest's toxic spores.

"Sister, be calm." Nabooru said softly, eyes taking in the feverish glaze of the woman's eyes.

The woman was poisoned, and fatally, judging by the way her pupils darted in and out of dilation.

"You're going to kill me, you killed my husband and now you're going to kill me!" the woman sobbed, curling around her middle, protectively. "Don't kill my baby, please don't kill my baby!"

The bundle she held moved a little, but remained quiet.

"My sisters and I harm no woman, even Hylian ones, unless they give us reason to turn a blade against them." The Gerudo soothed, using the well-recited words of a Gerudo raider. "There were no Hylians killed tonight, only soldiers." _And maybe some of my Gerudo sisters, _Nabooru thought.

"I will take care of the child." She said, as the thought occurred to her. "I will not murder you, either. The forest has already done that. It's just a matter of time, now." She drew a well-used dagger, letting the woman see it. "I heard from my sisters that dying from the Woods' poison is a slow, cruel death. I can ease it for you, if you like."

"Liar," the woman gasped, wheezing, "You-" but she did not finish, cut off by a child's cry.

"HEY! BIG PERSON!" A troupe of green-clad children melted out of the forest to surround the two women, hollering.

"Leave that other big person alone!" A red-headed boy yelled imperiously, brandishing a slingshot, "Or I, the Great Mido, am gonna hurt you!"

"Yeah!" A small pigtailed girl squeaked, timidly carrying a sturdy stick before her, "We'll get you."

"So, so, just go away!" Another boy, buck-toothed, agreed, waving two sticks of his own.

"Please, just leave the big person and the little one alone," The last remark came from a wise-eyed girl with green hair. She held a long dagger like a sword, stepping before the other children.

"She is protected by the Great Deku Tree, and the small Kokiri is one of us!" The other children clamored in agreement, some boys hefting rocks threateningly.

Nabooru snorted. "I didn't do anything to her. Go away." The redhead yelled and shot a stone at her. The Gerudo caught it and hurled it back, striking the boy hard across the temple.

"Go play your games elsewhere, forest children!" She snarled, brandishing her dagger in threat.

The Kokiri children watched her with wide eyes, then retreated into the shadows of the forest. Only the green haired girl remained, watching from a high branch with her wise, jade eyes.

Confident that the girl would not stab her in the back, she turned back to the dying woman.

She leaned closer to the woman, who moaned weakly, flinching. "What is your name?"

"Myina…" The woman, really no more than a girl, choked.

"And why did you run to these woods instead of remaining home?" Nabooru demanded.

"My husband…" Myina smiled briefly, falling lax into a grimace, "We came here… recently. He said Gerudo burn…" she hacked on her own spittle for a long moment, and gasped the rest out "…houses to the ground. Kill everyone. I had to save my baby."

She looked upon the bundle with a mother's love, and turned pleading eyes upon the Gerudo raider. "Please… don't kill my son."

"I already said I wouldn't, didn't I?" Nabooru snapped impatiently, taking the child from his mother's arms and setting him aside, tired of the girl's melodramatics, dying or not.

"Yes…" Myina mumbled, mouth orange with foam, tremors running through her body, limbs starting to twitch, heralding the beginning of the painful end.

"Would you like me to make your death quick?"

"Yes." Myina cried, and Nabooru held her limbs down as she convulsed, and slid a merciful blade between her ribs. "Oh my beloved," the girl rasped, voice a faint whistle, "My Link…Dakor…"

The red stain on her bosom grew, and her eyes stopped rolling. Nabooru watched quietly, and then closed the dead Myina's staring eyes.

She picked up the boy, unwrapping the cloth, and found he was no infant, almost ready to walk. Bright blue eyes stared at her, and the child gave her a toothless smile, unaware of his mother's death. Sandy gold hair and long, pointed ears marked him as a Hylian. Nabooru sighed and hefted his weight closer to her shoulder.

"You were a fool." She addressed the dead girl, unfazed by the macabre sight. "Had you but listened to your neighbors, you wouldn't have run to this death trap. You were young, but still, a fool."

She fished two brass coins out of her pouch, and bending carefully, put them on the girl's eyes. "Thank you for the boy."

As she turned to go, the Kokiri girl dropped from the canopy.

"Please, let me have the child." The girl begged, green eyes pleading. "The Great Deku Tree already made him safe from the forest. He is Kokiri now, don't you see?"

"I have no child." Nabooru said simply, so the little girl would understand, "I can never have a baby. I have a child now, and I'm not letting him go."

"There is something special about him," The girl insisted, stamping her foot. "He belongs to the forest; the Great Deku Tree said it was his fate!"

"Kids can't raise babies." Nabooru said with a meaningful look, "_Especially_ kids that never grow up. If it's his fate to come here, then he will. But not now."

The girl bit her lip, worrying it. A glowing ball of light flew out of her pocket, and whispered in her ear.

"Okay," the green-haired forest girls said hesitantly, "But take my ocarina." She took a green clay ocarina and held it far from her body, offering it to the Gerudo woman.

Nabooru took it, juggling the child and placing it in her pack, pulling a trinket from it as she did.

"Take this as my thanks." She tossed the necklace to the girl.

"Pretty…" The girl whispered reverently, fingering the green glass. "Thank you." She smiled a little, "The way back is that way." She pointed.

"I'll take care of the child," Nabooru thanked, and turning, she left.

* * *

She bound the boy to her bosom, and he began crying as soon as she began running. He sobbed the entire way back to open ground.

It was actually a relief that he was crying, as it let her know there wasn't anything wrong with him physically. Still, it got vexing after a while. Nabooru offered him a sip of water laced with the tiniest bit of a sedative. He looked at his new mother with distrustful eyes, and screwed up his face at her, before sucking the water up greedily.

"You'll come to like me, kiddo." Nabooru said with a rueful grin as he nodded off, "Just you wait."

She whispered the words to a concealment spell – she'd always excelled in magic studies, it just came naturally. When it was complete, she examined her new appearance.

Still the same height, with golden hair, blue eyes, and Hylian ears to match her new son. Her arms appeared far less muscular than before, and her skin had lost its harsh desert-sun tan. Then she noticed her clothing – far too Gerudo to pass as Hylian, what with the pantaloons and sari. She transformed the sturdy linen into a modest gown, of the style typical for a farmer's wife in this region.

With the coins she'd collected, she bought her way to the western side of the Province, riding comfortably on the back of a farmer's cart. When the baby woke up, she entertained him with fairy tales and stories of the Gerudo Fortress, his new home. Nabooru kept her voice quiet – the rumble of the cart drowned out her words – there was no way for the driver to overhear her.

With the Hylian guise, she traveled from town to town on the backs of wagons and carts, spending nights at cheap inns and one time, in a kindly miller's house. To prevent too much curiosity, she pretended to be stupid, and kept her false home history long and boring.

At last, after a week's travel, she was close enough to access the secret cliff paths that led to home.

She was pleased to find no trace of Hylian boots on the narrow path, and took extra care when she reached the most treacherous part, where gravel and sand made uncertain footing.

Nabooru was tired, hungry, and covered in dust by the time the path widened and opened to the pass that led to Hyrule's plains. At last. The bridge would be near, and it would be manned by a Gerudo. From the bridge, she could get a ride back to the Fortress. She smiled, and made her way to the river gorge, feeling the mist on her face, the thunder of the massive waterfall a familiar and welcome sound.

"Home," She breathed, feet moving of their own accord, and dropped the concealment charm.

"Hey, Nabooru!" The guard hollered from her post at the bridge as the raider approached, "Where were you? We thought you were dead!"

"I had to take the long way, Nooya!" Nabooru returned at her friend, grinning.

"It must've been a very long path, I think." Remarked Nooya, "Did you go around the Lake?"

"No, I spent that first night in the Lost Woods. And then hitchhiked my way back to the paths." Nabooru gave a sigh of relief as she undid the bindings that held her son in place. Nooya's eyes widened at the sight of the child in Nabooru's arms.

"You really are one of our best, Nabooru," She said in awe, "To steal a daughter from the forest…"

"A son. The child's a boy." Nooya's eyes grew even wider.

"A son!" She exclaimed gleefully, "Din knows we need more men! What's his name?"

Nabooru thought back to Myina's dying words: _My Link… Dakor…_

"Link." She said firmly, "His name is Link."

* * *

1. At the end of every chapter I will post notes that further explain the world in which this story takes place. Some information simply wouldn't fit in well with my projected narrative, so instead it will be placed in my notes.

2. So that's all for now. Just to clear everything up, the legend Nabooru told took place about four or five hundred years ago. So the son Batu had was not Ganondorf.

3. Another thing to clear up, Myina's husband is named Link, not Dakor. Dakor is Link's birth name, but since his mom was kind of out of it, it was an understandable mistake for Nabooru to make.

4. I got kinda tired of all the noble deaths everyone gives Link's mom, and makes Link's dad a brave soldier who dies heroically or is still alive. So I gave Myina a commoner's name, and she died a foolish, easily prevented death. Link's dad is a hired hand on a farm. He's okay at it, and is rather gullible. They're very young, and far too caught up in the romance and drama of their lives. I just want them to be regular people, not very important to the story except for this bit.

5. I've always adored the Gerudo, so that's where this story comes from. As soon as I took a peek into the canyon, and heard their theme song, I was captured. As always, I am fiercely protective of canon, but I also adore messing with it in AUs. Huh.

6. I plan to give each of the races a background history and culture, as well as their own mythos. I'm pretty big on background details, so if anyone wants to let me know what they think of my portrayals of the land and races of Hyrule, just give me a shout!

Kudos!

Rin.


	2. Family

Well! Here's the next chappie!

I had a lot of fun making up the characters for the chapter. Some warnings: There's gonna be a LOT of female OCs in this. Seeing as I'm focusing on the Gerudos, it's hard not to. No woman is in any way a self-insert. Also, I will be dealing with homosexuality throughout the story. Mostly lesbians, because it only makes sense in an entirely female race.

And most importantly, please, PLEASE don't tell me Ganondorf is OOC in this. It's important that everyone in the story is, above all, a _person_.

That aside, I want to thank everyone who reviewed: Ri2, BlazeStarre, xakattak, Viral Mutation, and Darkle. Your reviews really helped rev my engine in regards to writing the story.

And again, thanks to Shay, my fabulous Beta, to whom I am greatly in dept to for taking the time to help me.

Disclaimer: Merrily defying copyright lines since 2002. Everything that doesn't belong to Nintendo in this fic belongs to me. Seriously.**

* * *

The Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun **

by Rin

Chapter Two: Of Family

Once there were two twin sisters. They grew strong in the ways of the desert magics, and became witches well-known for their strength and power.

Years passed, and like all women, they began to long for a child to nurse. One night they went into one of the Hylian towns and, together, seduced a man. At the end of the night they slit his throat, and returned to the desert Colossus that was their home.

Both sisters soon found themselves with child, and in nine months, the twins each gave birth to a son. As the sisters were hard to tell apart, so it was impossible to tell the two boys apart. Even their mothers could not tell which child was theirs, so alike were the boys.

Suddenly, the sons grew ill, and in the night, one son passed away. The two witches awoke to find only one babe still breathing.

Never knowing which was theirs, they both mourned the death of the one child, and raised the other child together.

So it was that our King, Ganondorf Dragmire, was born and raised by two mothers, the two witches.

* * *

"No. Absolutely not." Was the first thing out of Ganondorf's mouth as he saw the Hylian child in Nabooru's arms. 

"Please, my Lord." Nabooru said, determined, "With all respect, we need more men."

"Hylian men? I don't trust them." Link wiggled a little in her arms, and she shifted him higher. There had been no time to leave him at home with her sister, so Nabooru had simply taken him with her. Since he had woken from his drugged sleep that morning, he had been unnaturally quiet, a silence that had lasted all day.

"Then why not a Hylian man raised as one of us, sir?"

"I know what you want, Nabooru." The young Gerudo King rubbed tiredly at his weathered face, "But I cannot see any good coming of it in the future. This boy will do our people no good." Nabooru frowned, and forged on doggedly.

"My Lord, I will raise him as my own, he will be loyal to our people, I swear it." The King shot her a dryly amused glance.

"Determined as always, aren't you?" He mused, watching her. "I'll offer you a deal." Nabooru's pleading expression melted into wariness. The way he remained seated and made her stand left her uneasy.

"And what is this deal?" She queried, "Sire." She tacked the honorific on at the end, careful. How could the man be so intimidating, all whilst seated at a desk which bore a veritable cornucopia of papers?

"Be my consort." Ganondorf said simply, "Be my Queen, and you can keep the boy."

"Why?" She asked incredulously, not believing what she had heard. Link drooled on her shoulder, oblivious to how important the moment was to his future, to history.

"Are you really that blind? It should be obvious." The King sighed, "You've made a name for yourself. The people like and trust you. They will follow you into battle, and even into uncertain peace. And most of all, the Gerudo spirit is with you, more than any other woman."

He grimaced, then added rather frankly, "I will admit; it certainly doesn't help that around every corner, Tabiya is ready to jump my bones and maul me." Nabooru frowned, recalling seeing Tabiya, a proud and arrogant beauty, chase after the King for many a year like a cat after a mouse.

"I don't know…"

"I am not my mothers, and I will not become them." Ganondorf's eyes were intent upon her in the late afternoon sun, voice hard with sincerity. Nabooru looked at him, thoughtful.

"If I may keep my son," She said slowly, "Then I give my consent."

The tense lines in Ganondorf's face slackened a little, and just like that, the foreboding tension hanging in the air disappeared.

"Thank you, Nabooru." He sighed, relaxing into the Spartan-like chair. "This will be the first good news in a long while." He rubbed wearily at his eyes, mumbling. "Every year the Hylian King sends more soldiers when we must steal from our own land, and now they're boycotting our glass trade."

He came back to attention at the boy's soft coo, a chubby hand waved in the air.

"You can keep your son, Nabooru." Ganondorf said, carefully. "Raise him well. I will be watching his growth carefully. Din knows," He smiled thinly, "If he grows into a true Gerudo, we may not need to wait a century for a new King."

"Thank you, my Lord." Nabooru breathed in relief, and there was a strange kindness in the King's eyes as he replied,

"Call me by my name, Nabooru. And you're welcome."

"With your leave then." The woman bowed, and with her son, left the man's solitary workroom.

"Goodbye, then." The young King said to the empty doorway, "I just hope I've not made a mistake, and welcomed a future traitor."

He turned back to his work, and looking upon the mess of treaties and ledgers, cursed whatever cruel being had invented paperwork.

* * *

"I'm home, Sister!" Nabooru called, tapping the doorframe, and then sounding the visitor's bell. She easily balanced Link with one arm. 

"I'm in the workroom! Just let me finish!" Aya called from the side room, the largest room in the sisters' shared quarters. Link was sat down on a cushion seat on the floor with a soft squeal, and he busied himself with exploring said cushion. Nabooru stretched, relieved of her burden, and sat down beside her new son on another cushion.

"So, how did the King take it?" Aya asked curiously, appearing in the doorframe, wiping soot from her hands. She closely resembled her younger sister, dark of skin and slim of frame. The _bindi_ jewel upon her forehead gleamed red in the sun.

"Well enough." Came the simply reply.

"What's that mean?" Aya reclined upon a cushion, eyebrow arched.

"The kid is going to stay, obviously."

"You're hiding something, Nabs, I know you. Tell me!" Aya pouted, "If you can't even tell your own sister…" Nabooru frowned at her.

"Lord Ganondorf offered me a deal, and I took it." Her forehead wrinkled as she spoke. "I'm to be his consort now." Aya beamed, as if she'd seen it coming.

"Good for you, Sister! You'll do well, I know you will. It truly is an honor." She examined her sister's face. "But you don't want it... Do you?" Aya queried softly, realization dawning.

"It's not that I don't feel honored," Nabooru said slowly, watching Link stuff one of the cushion's large tassels into his mouth, "But I do not believe I am the right person either. I'm just not a leader. Stealing is my life, not ordering my sisters around."

"Sister," Aya said carefully, "_That_ is precisely why the women want you to lead them."

Nabooru stared at her.

"…They do?"

Aya threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh my dearest Older Sister," she chuckled, "You've always been blind to our sisters' opinions of you!"

"That isn't very funny, Aya." Nabooru grumbled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Aya kept laughing, and was about to reply when the visitor's bell jingled, accompanied by a cheerful call of:

"We're home!" Aya's face lit up, and sprung up from the floor to embrace the grinning woman in the door.

"Dinah!" She snatched a quick kiss from the other woman, and bent to kiss the auburn-fluffed head of the babe in Dinah's arms.

"Welcome back, Dinah!" Nabooru greeted her sister-in-law, "I trust work was good?"

Dinah smiled, handing Aya her daughter, and headed for the water jug. Her sunny mood was apparent in her light step.

"Productive, as usual, Sister." She took a long draught, then wiped her mouth. "We have some new pigment in, from the canyon upriver. It's the loveliest blue you'd ever seen."

"And how did Reya behave?" Aya piped in from the cushion, nursing Reya.

"Oh, I had Kooru watch her for me. She already has a kid, almost three." Dinah grinned mischieviously, sitting down next to her lover, smelling strongly of smoke and molten glass. "Kooru said Reya screamed half the time, and then her daughter joined in!"

"So the regular banshee behavior?" Aya asked, smile wide on her face.

"Maybe we should start a choir." Nabooru remarked, smirking. Dinah chuckled.

"Indeed. And this must be the rugrat everyone's heard about!" Dinah tousled Link's blonde hair affectionately. He stared at her with big eyes, then crawled over to Nabooru, the only person he knew was safe.

Nabooru sighed apologetically, and lifted the baby onto her lap. The boy wiggled a little before settling. Aya watched her sister with a knowing expression.

"Don't worry about it, Nabooru. It will take a time before he trusts us all."

"I know."

"I heard the _other_ big news, by the way." Dinah spoke, breaking the building tension in the air. "Tabiya is going to have a fit."

"That spoiled housecat can go hang, what good she is." Aya sneered. "She may have the favor of the Witches, but the desert will bloom before she'll be a proper Queen."

"Yes," Dinah said, "I agree. Most of the women know by now. Koume and Kotake have been riding hard on the King to choose his consort, for a long time. And you know the influence they have on him." She sighed, and the women's eyes hardened at the thought of the Witches. "I'll have you know, Nabooru, that everyone thinks the King made the right choice. You don't need to fret. You have our support." Her dark eyes focused fervently on her sister-in-law.

The evening clarion call sounded, echoing through the valley.

"Time for dinner," Aya sighed, pulling Reya from her breast and fastening her shirt.

"Will you join us tonight, Sister?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. It's been a long day." Already the exhaustion was encroaching, making her temples ache.

"Don't try to put it off, Nabooru." Aya frowned.

"I'm not," Nabooru denied, shaking her head. "Well… maybe a little. But I really am tired!" She added quickly, at their knowing looks. "Aya, if I _am_ to be Queen, I'd like to face everyone with some reserves left. It was a very hard raid."

"Okay." Aya said, backing down. Relief flooded Nabooru's body, the tension in her aching temples easing at the thought of not facing _everyone_ as Queen so soon. Everything was moving so fast, for Din's sake!

"I'll watch the babes, leave Reya with me." She offered in gratitude, and Aya's eyes brightened, though she tried to suppress it. The baby was handed to her Aunt.

"Thank you," She beamed, "We'll miss you at the meal, but I can't say we don't need a break from her."

"Go on," Nabooru made a shooing motion, "Enjoy yourselves, you two."

Dinah mouthed _thank you_ at her, before hooking her arm around her lover, and tugged her to the door. A quick shuffle as they slipped their sandals on, and they were gone to the evening meal in the courtyard.

Sleepiness crashed down as soon as they left, and she yawned widely. She settled Reya into her cradle. Link blinked sleepily at her from the cushion, little trust in his eyes, but he remained silent, as he had all day.

The little Hylian boy pushed a fist against his face , revealing toothless gums in a long yawn. Nabooru laughed, pulling out the sleeping mats.

"I know exactly how you feel."

* * *

A/N: So that's that! 

At first I had Link acting like a regular baby, but then I realized that all this abnormal, stressful stuff had just happened to him, and he _shouldn't_ be acting normal. So Link is super-quiet. I just can't imagine him as a scream-happy baby.

I wanted to portray Ganondorf as a regular human being, for the most part. He won't be evil at first, but as power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Ganondorf ends up with the Triforce of Power.

* * *

Letting everyone know, at the end of each chapter I am going to post my background notes. I feel that it will only enrich the story if you read them. So here's the first set of notes: 

1. Nabooru being Queen and Ganondorf's consort in no way means they are in love, and it's not really like a marriage either. As the only male, the King can't be 'faithful', and so being Queen really means she's the King's second-in-command. Ganondorf does not love Nabooru, but his choosing her implies that he trusts her, respects her, and has some amount of affection towards her, though not romantically.

2. On Nabooru's tapping the doorframe and bell, that is a Gerudo tradition, done when one comes into a home. They touch the doorway on the way out to ask the Goddesses to let them return safely, and tap it on the way in to thank the Goddesses for keeping them safe. The bell is there to announce one's presence. In a race of theives, it's courteous to let others know you're there. So if I ever use the phrase "tapping door and bell", this is what I'm refering to.

3. Nabooru lives with Aya, Dinah, Reya, and now Link in a family's quarters. For Gerudo, relationship ties are very important. Biological sisters are very close, often living together. Agemates (those who are at most 2 or 3 years different in age, those one grew up with) are very important too. Agemates usually remain close for the rest of their lives.

4. A Gerudo's home consists of small sleeping quarters, a common room, and perhaps a workshop. The sleeping quarters are often shared by mother and child, unless she has a lover. They sleep on the floor, on thick, comfortable mats. There is usually not too much furniture, and floor cushions are used like couches. Homes are more like apartments, stacked on each other in large units.

5. The Gerudo all eat together in the main courtyard, each meal is cooked together in the communal ovens and food preparation areas. Breakfast is a solitary affair, but lunch and dinner are big events, where they come together as a community and thank the Goddesses for the food.

6. Bathing is communal as well, located by the river, at the one point where there's a separate, more gentle waterfall. They soap up, then take a plunge into the Bathing Falls. No one is concerned much with nudity, as the community is entirely female. There's no point in changing that when they do have males, so Link and Ganondorf don't have any qualms about naked people. Unless they're really ugly. Even so, the Gerudo impress the importance of having the private parts covered in the presence of outsiders.

7. Nabooru's home has two sleeping quarters, one for Aya and Dinah, and one for Nabooru. Link and Reya sleep in the common room. The workshop is the largest room, and functions as Dinah and Aya's workplace, and Nabooru's armory.

8. As for the method to my naming madness

As a rule of thumb, Gerudos consider a name ending with a consonant masculine, particularly –rf and –f.

–oo- is a common name component, and most female names end with –u, especially –ru and -tu. –ya is also popular. Any name ending with a vowel is considered feminine.

9. The only marriages amongst the Gerudo are lesbian ones, the King and Queen is the only exception.

* * *

Please let me know what you think! Frankly, it's a real ego-booster, and it certainly makes me feel better about writing this! 

Kudos!

Rin.


	3. Rabiyu

It's been a while, I know. I got stuck in a rut – not knowing how to slowly corrupt Ganondorf. Real Life interceded, and Doctor Who and Phantom of the Opera stole my soul. I've gotten it back, now, and have set a very strict rule for myself: no updating a chapter until the next chapter is already written. This fic will get done, I swear.

Thanks for everyone who reviewed in the meantime. Thanks also to Shay, who beta'd this last minute.

One more note: Rabiyu is important. She's not a Mary Sue. But she is pivotal to this fic's plot.

Disclaimer: Defying copyright lines since 2002. Everything that doesn't belong to Nintendo in this fic belongs to me. Seriously.

* * *

**The Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun **

by Rin

Chapter Three: Of Rabiyu

Nabooru woke to a child's happy laugh and the sound of gravel shifting in the courtyard. She blinked a little, threw back the blanket and stretched her limbs, pleased to find that the wearied tension of last night had disappeared. Zombie-like, she changed into her day clothes, and rolled up the mat she'd slept on. Reya and Link were gone, Reya's cradle pushed out of the way. She was certain that Dinah or Aya had taken Reya to the nursery, but what about Link?

She ran a damp cloth over her face and neck to freshen up, and stepped outside to the blinding desert sun, ready to find her son. Heading down the apartment stairs, she entered the courtyard that doubled as free space for the tenants that lived in the eight levels of the whitewashed adobe apartment complex. No one had objected to Nabooru's proposal of a rock garden in the courtyard – if anything, they were quite pleased with the garden's simplistic beauty.

"Good morning, Nabooru." She was greeted by a girl, simply dressed, red hair like a spray of molten copper. The girl wore a somber expression unusual for her twelve years of age. Rake in hand; she deftly changed the straight rows of fine gravel to a swirling wave pattern. Link was sucking on his thumb at the edge of the gravel pit, watching the girl with fascinated eyes. Relief washed over Nabooru.

"Thank you for watching him, Rabiyu." Rabiyu smiled slightly, ducking her head.

Rabiyu's lineage was a bit of a controversy; her mother, Naotu, was a traitor and weakling who ran away from her Gerudo life to the arms of a Hylian man. Leaving behind her only daughter. However, she was Ganondorf's firstborn daughter, and so, his heir. A princess, in her own right. Rather than leave Rabiyu to the doting care of her maternal grandmother, the King had raised her on his own.

"It wasn't a problem. He was crawling around on the second floor, so I brought him down here, and I always enjoy spending time in your garden." She set the rake aside.

"I thought you had a garden in your father's home."

"Father is very bad with plants." The girl admitted, making Nabooru chuckle.

"Then you are welcome any time."

"Thank you." Rabiyu tentatively offered a finely patterned jug to Nabooru. "I brought you some water for your cactuses." Nabooru took the beautiful, but heavy jug from the princess, touched by the thoughtful gift. Carefully, she set the jug down onto the courtyard flagstones.

"Thank you so much. With all the excitement lately, I had forgotten." The little smile on the girl's face grew.

"It's to congratulate you. I think Father chose the right woman." Rabiyu gulped a little "And I… I was wondering if you could teach me magic? I'm old enough to be learning but Father won't approve anyone. He forbade me to learn from my grandmo–I mean, his mothers. I could help with your duties as Queen or look after your son or do chores or--"

"Rabiyu." Nabooru cut the girl off. "You don't need to beg. I would be happy to help."

"Oh." Rabiyu blushed. "Thank you." A loud trumpet sounded, then repeated several times before tapering out of hearing with a squeal.

"Ah – the Luncheon Horn. Eat with me today, Rabiyu, if you'd like. I have much I want to talk with you about."

"Of course!" The girl nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Nabooru." Nabooru smiled and picked Link up.

"Now then. Let's get this rascal fed."

"How… How dare you!" Tabiya seethed, standing enraged in Ganondorf's private quarters. He had left to eat lunch with the community, and upon his return, found he was no longer alone in his home.

"Tabiya, why are you here?" He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. She smiled, humorless, henna-reddened lips pressed thin. Her long hair – dyed black to suit her olivine skin better – bristled catlike with agitation.

"I heard a little rumor last night. I didn't like what I heard."

"And what did you hear?"

"I heard you made a big offer to someone that you shouldn't have."

"Someone?"

"No games, Ganondorf, not this time."

"No games?" He snorted sardonically, "I think not. When I'm involved with anything, it's called politics."

"Then why did you choose her?!" She slammed a hand down on his desk, making a carefully blown glass quill holder fall to shattered pieces on the stone floor. "Choosing another woman over me – against both your mothers' approval!"

"You broke my vase."

"Nabooru is barren – she doesn't deserve to be Queen."

"My daughter made that!" He growled, "You're allowed – and I am allowing you - to come in here and yell at me, shake your finger in my face and tell me I am a fool. What I will not allow is destruction of my personal properties as you decry my judgment on delicate political decisions."

"I don't care!" Hysteria made her voice rise. "My mother ruled before you were born, and my grandmother, and great-grandmother ruled before them. By my blood I am worthy to be queen!"

"They all passed the Queen's Ordeal."

"I can pass as well as they!" Power crackled white at her fingertips "Bring them on, Gerudo King, let the tests begin. I am no weakling like your beloved Naotu, I was apprenticed to the Two Witches of Twinrova, guardians of the Desert Colossus!"

"I am more than aware of the titles you flaunt, and remain unimpressed. Nabooru is just as capable as you are, yet she sees no need to inform all that she is one of my Agemates, and shared the same teacher. Barren or not, Nabooru has brought what no other Gerudo woman has– a son."

"A Hylian child." She scoffed.

"But a Gerudo at heart, if raised properly."

"You can cross that bridge when you reach it." Tabiyu snapped. Ganondorf raised his eyebrows.

"Didn't you realize," he said quietly, "that I spurn you because you curried favor with my mothers, and because I found fault not with you as a person, but as a leader? My mothers are renowned for their power, prowess in magic, and cruelty. They want every Hylian man dead, and then who would sire our daughters? The Zora? No. My mothers want a war that we don't have power, or resources for."

"So that… is why I can't be Queen?" She asked thickly. For the first time, he noticed the red, puffy skin around her eyes. She was crying. "I'm not good enough because I sought out the best of magical instructors? Made two daughters with you? Devoted myself to you and taken no scum between my legs for the sake of reproduction?"

Unflinching, he looked her in the eye.

"I chose Nabooru because she would sacrifice her live to save another – when you have left others to die under your leadership. Your ambition is proud of its heritage, but you've blinded yourself to everything except becoming Queen."

"But…"

"Go home Tabiya. Tell your daughters that their Father says hello." Dismissing her, he turned his attention to picking up the shards of his daughter's vase without bloodying himself.

She left quickly, without a sniffle. He heard her footsteps down the rich carpet of his hallway, and a new set approaching.

Rabiyu bounced in, tapping door and bell, and all but knocked him over in her enthusiastic hug.

"I'm home, Daddy!" Her attention fell to the floor, "Your vase is broken!"

"Yes, I did notice. Tabiya did it."

"I saw her in the hall. She looked upset. Were you mean to her?"

"Yes, but she started it." He stated, placing the last of the glass into the trash bin.

"She doesn't know when no means no. I'm glad you're better than that."

"What has you in such a cheery mood?" He motioned for her to follow him to the den, a room filled with rich Gerudo tapestries, thick rugs, and overstuffed pillows.

"I talked with Nabooru today and ate lunch with her."

"How are she and the boy doing settling back in?"

"Better than they might. Her sister - Aya - is married to the glassblower who helped me make your vase – the one that got busted - and they already have a baby too."

"Yes, her name is Reya. She's one of mine."

"So when you've married Nabooru she'll be my half-sister and my cousin."

"Correct."

"Do you think Nabooru will want to be my mother when you marry her?"

"I don't know."

"You think she'll pass the Queen's Ordeal?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't choose her if she couldn't already."

"Do you think my mother could pass?" The unexpected question was like a dagger of ice. It burnt and froze at the King's chest.

"…I don't know." Was all he could manage through the knot in his throat.

"She never passed her Woman's Ordeal, so I don't think she could."

"Have you ever wanted her to come and take you away with her?"

"Yes, but I know you're a good father. She should have taken you too, and then Tabiya could be Queen." Ganondorf failed to smother his snort of laughter.

"I think Nabooru will make a fine Queen, and even if you don't get along perfectly, she's a good person. And you'll have to help raise Link to be a prince."

"I look forward to it." Rabiyu said, eyes alit with eagerness. "A little… brother! What a novel thought!"

"All in good time, as it should be." Ganondorf chuckled.

* * *

Chapter Notes:

Women's and King/Queen's Ordeal

When a Gerudo girl gets her first period, it is time for her to take the Women's Ordeal. As the test takes place in the Desert Colossus – known to Gerudos as the "Great Sand Mother", all the way across the Desert Wasteland, they usually wait until they have three or more girls who need to take the test, before they are escorted across the Desert Wasteland to take their Ordeal. So sometimes it can take up to a year for a girl's Ordeal to be postponed.

The "Great Sand Mother" is called such because it looks like a woman kneeling (the entrance to the regular Woman's Ordeal is between the folded legs so symbolically, they enter and leave the Sand Mother's womb, and are 'reborn' after their Ordeal)

It is possible, if uncommon, for a woman to fail her Ordeal. There is no second chance to retake the Women's Ordeal. Because failing it proves a weakness of character, a girl who fails will be relegated to lesser occupations. One example of a woman who failed her ordeal is Rabiyu's mother, Naotu.

As there is only one Gerudo male, Ganondorf had to take the King's Ordeal to be accepted as a legitimate king. The King's Ordeal is the harshest test to take, but all Kings are raised to be able to handle it. The King takes his test on his 15th birthday – when he passes, he ascends to the throne immediately. To date, all King have passed their test.

The Queen's Ordeal is a little easier than the King's Test. If you fail your Queen's Ordeal, you die.

Gerudo Dynasties

King Queen (Queen chosen through marriage)

Queen (chosen through bloodline King's daughter)

Queen (chosen through bloodline Queen's daughter)

And so on until 100 years later;

King (chosen through gender) Queen (chosen through marriage, often a daughter of the previous Queen)

That is how Gerudo dynasties work.

Kudos!


	4. Envoys

Shorter chapter than usual. On the brighter side, I have all of Child of the Sun outlined, and more than half of its sequel mapped out. Updates should be coming faster.

Disclaimer: Defying copyright lines since 2002. Everything that doesn't belong to Nintendo in this fic belongs to me. Seriously.

* * *

**The Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun **

by Rin

Chapter Four: Of Envoys

_Sun, wind, and the endless ocean of sand. _

"_Are you ready to begin?"_

"_I am."_

"_This ordeal is different from the Women's Ordeal. That was all about testing your ability as an individual, and a trial of courage and will. The Queen's Ordeal will be much like the King's Ordeal was for me. Here you will be tried as a leader, one ruling many. And make no mistake; here you will face death."_

"_No pressure intended, yeah?"_

"_Indeed. Good luck, Nabooru. You won't need it."_

"_Thank you for believing in me."_

"_Your own actions led you here. Climb the Sand Mother, and press a bloodied hand to her heart. Your Ordeal will begin there."_

"_Thank you."_

"_I'll see you soon."_

* * *

(Flash forward six years)

The women's chatter filled the steamy air of the bathing pool area. It was early, the sun hiding just below the horizon; turning the sky a pale violet. Floating above the noise was the distinct sound of the Bathing Falls. The water filling the pool area was taken from the massive waterfall in the canyon, piped to the Fortress, where it was filtered for dirt and debris, and boiled to make it safe to drink. From there, it was cooled for drinking and general use in the Fortress. But once a week, a portion of the piping hot water was sent to the Bathing Falls, where it ran over an artificial waterfall and into the bathing pools. Usually the hot water was scented like spice and sun, but today, the baths were perfumed with expensive oils of sandalwood and rose – the costlier bath stuffs used in lieu of the grand celebration that would happen today.

With the onset of her moon cycle, Rabiyu had faced her Women's Ordeal, and passed with flying colors, if a little worse for the wear. That, combined with the Spring Equinox and this year being the twenty-fifth of Ganondorf's reign, meant there was more than enough cause for a big party. As a gesture of peace, the Hyrulian King had been invited to attend.

He and the Hylian entourage were due to arrive at noon, so a pre-dawn bath was a practical way to ensure everyone was clean and ready for a day of partying. Conversations were turned to what the women would wear, of the games and food to be present at the festivities, and of the male company the Hylian knights and soldiers would provide for the three day celebration.

Link tried very hard not to squirm as his mother finished chanting the spell that changed his natural golden hair to a rich russet hue, allowing him to blend in with the Gerudo girls for a whole month, before having to be recast. His eyes remained their uncanny shade of indigo.

"Okay Link, all done." Gleefully, he stood on the slick tile of the bath floors, tanned, soapy, and unashamedly naked, looking for an empty space in the water to jump into.

"Link! Over here!" His cousin yelled, hair an auburn halo floating around her. He jumped into the water and paddled over to her, leaving the suds in his wake. Link leant over Reya and took a long, purposeful sniff.

"Guess the baths really do some good after all. You don't smell like horses at all!" Reya squeaked and promptly turned pink. She splashed him. He grimaced and spat out a mouthful of water.

"There's nothing wrong with that!"

"Reya," the boy said gravely, wrinkling his nose, "Horses are stinky and they go to the bathroom while you ride them. You should spend less time with them."

"But I love them!" She crossed her arms defensively. "You're just jealous because you can't hit a target at all when you're on Amber."

"I'm getting there!" He protested, "It's not like you're that much better at archery, anyway."

"Now, now, you two," Dinah admonished, wading over to the pair, "Try to get along, and let everyone else enjoy their soak."

"Aw _Mom!_" the girl whined, "I didn't need your help!"

"Make sure to get out before you get wrinkled, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to scrub your mother's back."

"_Auntie Dinah!_" Link wailed, stuffing his fingers in his ears. Reya stuck her tongue out at her step-mother's retreating back.

"And they're going to make kissy faces at each other too. Blegh!" They then stuck their tongues out at each other, and grinned.

* * *

"Is something troubling you, Nabooru?"

Eyes closed, mouth pursed to blow a stream of air into the green ceramic instrument.

"Yes, thank you, Dinah. Link has an imaginary friend. I know most children have one at his age – I did too."

Fingers covering the holes that change the notes played.

"But he seems to persist in believing that this imaginary friend is real, even after I talked to him."

A voice tickling at the edges of his mind whenever he played.

"Says her name is 'Sariya', and that he can speak with her when he plays his ocarina."

A voice as alive as green leaves, as fresh as a cold stream, as playful as a breeze.

_Hello, Link. Can you hear me?_

_Yeah. _

_Good! _A little girl's giggle. _What did you want to talk about?_

_Anything, Saria! Tell me more about the forest! I told you about the desert last time._

_Alright, Link. Have I told you about the Skull Kids yet?_

"You said his ocarina came from the forest?"

"Yes, a Kokiri girl gave it to me when I found Link."

"Well, perhaps it is a magical ocarina."

A voice that spoke to him, and always, a small hand guiding his music.

* * *

"Blasted sun." Sir Flasmus grunted, dabbing at the sweat pouring off his pudgy face. "Not even noon yet and I'm cooking like a pig. How the Amazons take it I'll never know."

"The Gerudos prefer light silks, Uncle. Our wool is too warm for a desert climate." The gangling youth riding beside the portly man said, as if reciting a line from a text.

"I didn't ask you, Ferrick."

"Sorry, Uncle." The young man closed his mouth, and looked away.

Further up the line of horses was the Hyrulian envoy to the Gerudos, sun shining off his armor. The King himself could be found a week's journey away, tending court back at Hyrule Castle. He would have joined the Gerudo King for the Gerudo heir's coming of age, had it not been the Hylian princess's seventh birthday. As the appointed aide of the Gerudo envoy, Ferrick couldn't help but sigh in disapproval of the King's decision to remain. Were the Gerudo raids not escalating in frequency? Their pleas for aid not growing in desperation? It was an ambassador's nightmare, for the King to renege on a promise to visit a neighboring kingdom.

The Gerudo had no husbands to care for them, but for their King. Shouldn't the Hylian men then be responsible for their welfare? Just the thought of the defenseless women the Gerudos had once been raised chivalrous notions within Ferrick.

At the back of the line were a herd of finely bred horses lead by several guardsmen. With the horses came a wagon loaded with precious gifts for the Gerudo princess, jewels and gold, wood carvings, ornate but practical water jars, Hylian fruits and delicacies time-sealed in their containers to remain fresh until the seal was removed. Ferrick had planned the gifts with the ambassadors, researched Gerudo tradition and their available resources to find the most meaningful offerings the envoys could offer. All this to send a clear message of respect and honor.

And even now he could see the lustful thoughts swimming in the mounted soldiers' eyes, anticipating the passionate encounters sure to happen amongst a community of man-hungry women, during a festival full of drink and revelry.

Ferrick just hoped the men behaved themselves, and that nothing untoward might occur. And perhaps, for something… anything, really, to happen that might help heal the tattered bond between the Hylian and Gerudo people.

* * *

And that's that for the fourth chapter. This fic will be at least 17 chapters long, maybe double that.


	5. Courting

So. It's been a while. After a plot revamp and a complete mental breakdown, and well as getting a life again, I have returned a true writer who knows how to kill writer's block. This story has been restructured so I can incorporate this story into my own original fantasy series. So that means there are two moons in the sky, and loads of countries outside Hyrule. And reasons why Hyrule is isolated from the rest of the world, and how magic works, and why most Gerudo are always female, and so on. Yeah. So I can't make any promises about this story except that I'll finish it, I swear. Oh yes, and chapter six is written already.

Disclaimer: Merrily defying copyright lines since 2002. Everything that doesn't belong to Nintendo in this fic belongs to me. Seriously.

* * *

**The Legend of Zelda: Child of the Sun **

by Rin

Chapter Five: Of Courting  


* * *

"Those stupid Hylians! They're taking _forever_!" Reya complained to an unresponsive Link, who was playing his ocarina as he squatted against a corner of the building nearest the Fortress gates. Unruly russet hair escaped the confining turban which was wrapped around his head to hide the tell-tale length of his pointed ears.

"Shh, Reya, I'm talking to Sariya." He grumbled, losing his fingering.

"Sariya, Sariya, Sariya. All you talk about is Sariya! I thought I was your best friend."

"You are, but Sariya isn't Gerudo like us. She lives in the Lost Woods!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"So what's it like --" Reya was interrupted by the watcher woman posted to announce the moment the Hylian caravan arrived.

"They're here!" She shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth to magnify the sound. The gatekeeper shouted back her acknowledgement of the cry, and triggered the clockwork mechanism that would swing open the gate.

With a creak, the massive gate opened, swinging open to allow the Hylians entry.

In they cantered, armor and sweat gleaming in the sun, shining off the dark flanks of their horses, the train of mounted soldiers followed by a caravan clanking heavy and full of what must surely be precious gifts. A herd of six horses followed closely behind the covered wagon, led by bridle and lead.

"Look at them, baking in their armor!" Link nudged Reya.

"Like a piece of fat on a griddle!" She agreed.

"Where's the Hylian King?" Link wondered, half-blinded by the bright armor.

"I don't see him anywhere." Reya said, face perplexed.

"But why would he not come when he said he would?" Link frowned.

"I don't know."

"I guess you just can't trust those Hylians."

"You're a Hylian, Link." Reya said. Link rolled his eyes at her.

"Just barely."

* * *

"_What?_" The pretty young advisor shrunk away from Ganondorf's thunderous expression.

"That's what the letter said, my lord." She whimpered.

"And he thinks he can just forget us like this? I won't have it." He brought a clenched fist to his furrowed forehead, before slowly lowering it. "The Hylians are settled in the palace rooms?"

"They are your highness."

"And the festivities and dinner are prepared?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. We'll give them a welcome they won't quickly forget."

* * *

Evening came, and the soldiers at last had stripped off their armor for colorful, more physique-flattering party clothing.

The gifts themselves would be delivered on the fifth day. Until then, the men were free to enjoy themselves. Rooms were provided in the palace, but most of the men had no intention of using those empty rooms.

The night on the streets of the Fortress was thick with exotic Gerudo women in silks and veils, the very air thick with perfume, spice and the smell of cooking food. Here and there woman musicians strummed guitars, played flutes, and danced with tambourines for the Hylian men's money.

They didn't often get men in their own city, so the Gerudo were taking advantage of the opportunity to have intimate relations far more safely than before. The women who were married hunted in packs of two, selecting a man and taking him to their collective bed. It was a tried and true method for married couples to conceive safely. Sometimes women seducing men in Hyrule alone simply… disappeared, and were never seen again. Ganondorf's ex-lover Naotu notwithstanding, most of Hyrule was not safe for a lone Gerudo, and what Hylian man would marry a Gerudo woman, anyway? A Gerudo wife would never be truly safe, let alone accepted. Far better to take a wife of one's own and have a life companion to have and hold. Men were for children, not for love.

Women slipped into the Hylian's path as the men enjoyed the street party, turning their heads with soft-spoken words, eyes smoky with kohl, flirting behind elegant paper fans. They were bolder, more poised than the women of the King's court.

It made Ferrick uncomfortable, and he flushed bright red as one woman, Voorya, whom he was questioning about some Gerudo customs, touched his arm as he spoke to her, and he began to stutter.

She tsked.

"Oh honey, you're shy, aren't you. My sisters all know the men are here to enjoy themselves amongst us. But you are not, no, not for that reason. I can see that. Why are you here, then?" She asked softly.

"I th-thought it would be a… a good opportunity to see a n-new culture." He stammered, and she smiled gently at him. "I was studying the Gerudo people, and I helped the Lord Ambassador choose the gifts for the Gerudo Princess."

"Did you?" She purred, "I didn't know we had Hylian scholars learning about us. How very… interesting. In that case, I know a girl you might like to talk to. Come." She grasped his arm firmly with a manicured hand and dragged him through the vividly colored crowd, then led him through empty side streets to a courtyard lit by moonslight. In the center of the tiled square was an oval pit of pure white gravel.

A woman stood on the gravel, a rake in hand. She raised her head when she heard their footsteps approach.

"Voorya? Who is that with you?" She inquired, tilting her head.

"I've found a man for you, Rabiyu."

"Voorya. I could've found a man for myself, really." Voorya shrugged.

"He's shy, you're shy. I thought, why not? He's a scholar, too, not some brute off the street."

"This isn't necess-" Ferrick began to protest, but Voorya shoved him into the courtyard.

"Go." She ordered, pointing at the young woman. "Woo her. Enjoy yourself. Or at least try."

"A- okay." He gave in, and Voorya smiled at him.

"Good. Now, I need to find a man of my own. Goodnight." Voorya strode away down the side-street, leaving the two young adults alone.

The young woman laughed quietly, then inclined her head at Ferrick.

"Well, I suppose I have a companion for tonight. Who are you?"

"Um. Ferrick. Ferrick Rauros."

"Ferrick. That's a good name. A strong name." She says softly, and he shakes his head, untidy brown hair fluffing in the breeze.

"The Hylian nobility don't think so. My uncle says it's weak. My father wanted to name me Finnes, but my mother got her way before he returned from his travels."

"That's where I must disagree. Ferrick is much stronger than Finnes."

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Rabiyu."

"D-do you have a surname?" He wondered, and she smiled, stepping out of shadow and into the moonlight.

Rabiyu was pretty, in a fierce sort of way. Her cheekbones were high, her nose straight but hooked, her strong chin stubborn. Where the other Gerudo women put their hair up in elaborate styles with silver and gold wire, Rabiyu's auburn hair was simply tied back into braids. Rather than wire of precious metal, a modest copper wire circlet held her hair back. Her bosom was still developing, but she looked… sleek. Her clothes were of finest silk, a flowing blouse and loose pantaloons – not heard of on a woman, if she wasn't Gerudo. Throughout her clothing was featured the symbolic pattern of the Gerudo – blue and red geometric lines embroidered on her cuffs, her sash, and waist. Rabiyu was young, he realized, no more than his own seventeen years, maybe a year younger. The traditional _bindi_ on her brow was milky, round, and faintly blue in the moonlight. Her eyes were amber like the Gerudo King's, and they were gentle as she looked at him.

"A lesson for you then. The Gerudo do not have last names. We have only our names, and the name of our mother. I suppose you might call me Rabiyu Naotu's-daughter."

"Well then, Rabiyu Naotu's-daughter, why are you away from the party? Why choose an empty courtyard over the festivities?" She sighed, and he realized that at some point he'd relaxed and stopped stuttering.

"I've talked to many of the men, but none I have met yet have been intelligent enough for me."

"You mean they've all wanted to take you straight to their beds." He said boldly, feeling his ears burn.

"Yes. Exactly." She said wryly, and Ferrick found himself laughing.

"Well don't worry. You're safe with me." He said self-depreciatingly. "I wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she leapt at me naked." Rabiyu threw her head back and cackled.

"That's good. I wouldn't either." Behind his smile, Ferrick's mind was working fast. Who'd ever heard of a virgin Gerudo? He wasn't about to say that thought aloud, though. "Though it has happened to my father." Wait a moment, what? Father? Most Gerudo women were sired by Hylian men, and were raised solely by their mothers and female relatives. For Rabiyu to know her father…

"You're the Princess, aren't you." Her bright smile dimmed a little.

"Yes. I am." Rabiyu said quietly.

"The party is for you. Because you turned sixteen." She shook her head, sending coppery braids flying.

"No. It's because I passed my Ordeal into adulthood." She corrected. "Most girls, when they reached adulthood, would disguise themselves and seduce Hylian men into their beds. But I'm the Princess, and heir. So it wouldn't be safe – well, I'm sure I be _fine_, really, but my father disagrees. Nevertheless, it's a tradition to lose one's virginity after a successful Ordeal, so we invited many men here so I could take my pick. It's also the spring equinox, and my father has ruled for twenty-five years now, but the celebration for me, really."

"But you said you couldn't find any men who were intelligent enough for you." She broke eye contact and shifted smoothly, beginning to rake at the gravel. With short sweeps of the wooden rake, she changed the pattern from waves to a geometric design much like the traditional Gerudo pattern that appeared in her clothing. She was the Princess. Of course she was wearing that design. Stupid! Stupid, Ferrick you fool!

"Well, most of them weren't smart enough. But you know; there was this one man…"

"Yes?"

"He didn't look like much, very skinny, but he talked to me like I'm a real person. Didn't look at me and see… what do they call us? Oh yes, 'wanton foreign whores.'"

"But you're not!" Ferrick protested, and then stopped himself as realization followed hard on the heels of momentary outrage.

"And I'm very glad you don't." Oh.

"You're propositioning me." He said lamely. Rabiyu brushed a lock of hair from her face, looking up at him.

"Am I doing a good job?" She wondered.

"Er… We'll be staying for five days. I'd like to know you a little better before… _that_."

"That's fine." The Gerudo Princess agreed readily. "Voorya said you were a scholar?"

"I'd like to be, but my Uncle doesn't."

"Forget your uncle, then. I'm not interested in men who perceive intelligence as weakness. Would you like to see our library? We have scrolls dating back to Hyrule's occupation of Lake Hylia."

"Could I?"

"You could."

"Then lead the way, fair princess." Ferrick said, waving a hand ineloquently.

"Come with me, Ferrick Rauros." Rabiyu replied, and taking his hand, led him into the shadows.

* * *

I love reviews.

Chapter Seven will bring the focus back to Link. And then the story will really get going!

Kudos!

Rin.


	6. Of Nights

Merry Christmas everybody!

Chapter eight will focus on Link again, but he makes an appearance in every other character-centered chapter.

Chapter seven is a megachapter. 5,000 words, people. It will come out when chapter eight is completed.

Everything you don't recognize is mine. Seriously. With some major alterations, I will be publishing this.

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**Chapter Six: Of Nights**

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Ganondorf smiled the next morning when Rabiyu dragged a young man to the high table for breakfast. He was skinny and gangly, and very young, but she seemed completely enamored of the youthful sprout. Good. This was what he'd wanted to happen.

It was not exactly true that all Gerudo women tried to lose their virginity with a seduced Hylian man after coming of age. It was actually the King's duty to deflower any woman who'd come of age. It was a tedious duty – trying to be excruciatingly gentle and then despite his efforts, the experience was unpleasant for his partner anyway - but he fulfilled it to his best ability. Thankfully, this duty did not extend to any of his daughters, though, or any woman related to him by blood. If it hadn't been a law already, he would have made it a law himself. Incest was a disgusting thing, unnatural and vile. It was these women who were exceptions who had to seduce men after their Ordeal. For his daughter to find a man she liked, who would take her virginity gently and respectfully greatly pleased him. He'd always hoped she'd prefer woman over men, so he could see her happily married, but this was acceptable.

For Gerudos, breakfast was usually a solitary affair, just a Gerudo and the rising sun, but not for Hylians of the High Court, who were used to making a production of every meal. So for five mornings, there would be breakfast served in the open-air banquet area where dinner and the noonday meal were held.

The Hylian Ambassador harrumphed beside him, and the Gerudo King rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his most important guest, who proceeded to expound on the financial matters of the Hyrule Kingdom. Talking about money when the sun was barely up! How cold-blooded could a race become? Ganondorf listened with attentive ears and a wandering mind. It was a skill he'd cultivated for twenty-one years, since he was just a young boy of fifteen.

Farther along the high table sat Nabooru, six-year old Link and his cousin Reya, as well as her parents… Aya and Dinah. Yes, that was them. Ganondorf prided himself on knowing all his subjects by name and face. They were a tightly knit-unit, but they had done their best to treat him warmly. Nevertheless, he never felt completely welcome, but then again, he was the King. He would never be one of the family. They had accepted Rabiyu with open arms, and really, that was all he could have ever asked for.

* * *

After a long, tedious day spent mostly by discussing the consequences of the Haunted Wasteland becoming a province of Hyrule with the Hylian Ambassador, and officiating another day of celebrations, Ganondorf thought he was more than justified in calling for Nabooru's company.

Now, hours later, he stretched out in bed – he had an actual mattress stuffed with straw and heather instead of a rolled out sleep mat. Nabooru lounged under the cotton sheets next to him, snuffling quietly in her sleep. The moonlight made her bronze skin look pale and washed out.

Just down the hall came a soft moan, and a very male voice crying out. Ah yes. Rabiyu and her paramour. When Rabiyu had been born, her mother Naotu had originally taken care of her in her own run-down room. As the mother of his first-born, she'd been allowed a room in the palace, after she'd turned down Ganondorf's hopeful offer of living with him in his own quarters. She'd waited until her child was weaned before fleeing. When the woman deserted, there had been no female relatives to look after her, save a maternal grandmother whose mind was clearly fading into dementia, and the Gerudo King had taken his child in without complaint.

It was hard to believe, as troubled as these times were for the Gerudo, but times back then had been even tighter. All of Hyrule had been going through a massive drought, and pickings had been slim indeed. No reason to pay extra for high quality Gerudo glass, silk, or ore when cheap alternatives were available from more trustworthy races. Most of the women had had to leave their jobs to forage for food and deepen the wells. Meals were shortened to one rationed meal a day, and duties curtailed to conserve energy and water. At one point they'd even trespassed into the Greater Hyrule Plains to hunt down Wolfos and Peahats for their meat, it had been so bad. The Gerudo race had balanced on a knife's edge of survival and starvation for two years because of that drought, and the famine that had followed. The skinny limbs of the girl children and the gaunt faces of the women still featured in his nightmares, dreams where his women starved, the river and wells dried up, and the bodies accumulated in the dust of the streets, the fields on fire. Very few Gerudo had died from hunger and thirst, but the possibilities still haunted him to this day.

There had been no one to spare to look after Rabiyu – he'd had to do it himself. Once she was old enough to sleep on her own, he'd made her a bedroom in a room just down the hall from his own suite, so he could hear her in the night if she had a nightmare or needed him for some other reason.

The proximity of their rooms had been useful then. Now, not so much.

Ganondorf sighed and settled back into bed, hoping not to hear any more incriminating noises. Of course, silence did not come, not even after ten minutes of waiting. Damn that teenage stamina. He rolled off the thin, low mattress and pushed himself to his feet. As soon as he was up Nabooru rolled into the warm spot he'd left with a grunt. He lit a candle with a snap of his fingers and a flicker of magic. The Queen stirred, and rubbed at her face, trying to block out the light.

"Mnnh- wha?" She murmured, blinking up at him sleepily and reaching out to tap his ankle. "Gan? Go ta _sleeeep_."

He liked her best like this, all loose-limbed and mindlessly affectionate. No formalities, no thoughts of what he could do to her son if she displeased him.

A muffled crash came from down the hall, followed by soft but unstifled laughter. Nabooru's brow furrowed.

"I'm going to soundproof the room," he explained, moving to the far wall - which was concealed from sight by tall shelves. Ganondorf pulled a few magical components from a sealed box, and crumbled them together. Finally, he drew out a single dried flower from a bottle, sprinkled the crumbling components on the blossom, and spoke a few words over it, letting his power sink into it. It glowed softly for a moment, and then settled into a faint glimmer in the heart of the flower.

He opened the ornately but tastefully carved door and stepped into the whitewashed, terra-cotta tiled hallway. He pinned the flower above the doorframe with a needle. The soundproofing complete, Ganondorf closed the door behind him and paused. Good, not even the sound of the endless wind outside the window came through. He'd have sound sleeping tonight, but he would take the spell down once Rabiyu's young man left. It would not do to become complacent and block out important noises like a fire siren, an explosion from the Mage's building (which often caught fire), or even an assassin. There'd been a several attempts on his life before – the last had been eight years ago – so he was probably due for one very soon now.

Back in bed, Nabooru grunted, rolling back onto her side with a soft "Rrrgh." She covered her eyes with her forearm.

"_Ganondorf._ Sleep. _Now._" She commanded, now in full control of her tongue, and the Gerudo King didn't bother to stop his grin.

"As my lady commands." He smirked quietly, pinching the candle out and sliding between the sheets. He rolled onto his side and pulled Nabooru to him by means of a thickly muscled arm around her waist. She made a sleepy sort of grumble but settled in against him.

Ganondorf closed his eyes and let sleep steal him away.

* * *

On the third day, Rabiyu and Ferrick did almost everything together. Even when the princess had to act in her ceremonial role as firstborn and heir, the young Hylian man stayed close by in the shadows.

She showed him the empty glassworks that brought in most of the Gerudos' income. Ferrick was led on a tour of the public armory, the Gauntlet, and taken up to the roof of the tallest apartment complex in the Fortress so he could see the distant kneeling figure of the Desert Colossus.

Rabiyu explained to Ferrick about different customs of the Gerudo, including the Ordeals. She even mentioned the rotation schedule the Gerudo were using during the five days of celebration.

"It's so everyone can have most of their time off to have fun." She said, swinging her legs over the edge of the roof, "Someone has to cook and serve the food, play the music, watch the children, clean the streets and take out the night soil. But we're not just going to force the lower classes to do it all, because they didn't pass their Ordeal or some other stupid reason. So everyone has one day to work, and they have the rest of the holiday off to enjoy. Except for Daddy of course. He has to be King the entire time." Ferrick considered this thoughtfully.

"Hm. A rotating schedule. That's… fairer than Hylian customs, actually." He admitted, making his Gerudo lover smile at him, and grab his hand to show him more of the Fortress.

During the tour of the stables – the Gerudo claimed to breed the finest horses in Hyrule – Ferrick was knocked into a pile of dirty straw and manure by two rambunctious girl-children.

"Reya! Linkyu!" Rabiyu scolded the girls. The taller of the two wore a turban wrapped around her head and looked unusually boyish. "You both know you're not supposed to be in here without Kooru or a stable hand watching you! Who was minding you today?" They looked at their feet.

"Halya," Linkyu, the turban-wearer mumbled. Rabiyu sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"All right, let's find her then," She said firmly, grabbing the girls by their shoulders and frog-marching them out of the stables. Ferrick quickly brushed at his soiled clothing and followed.

"I think I'll take a quick wash and change into something clean, Rabiyu. Can I meet up with you at dinner?" He proposed, wrinkling his nose at the stench on his clothes. She nodded distractedly.

"Yes, that's fine. I'll see you at dinner, then, Ferrick?"

"Of course. Till then." He agreed.

"You're in for a surprise, tonight." She said, and flashed him a smile before leading the children away towards the apartment complexes, while he headed to the palace, which served as both the King's residence and as an administrative building, as well as temporary housing for the visiting Hylian guests.

* * *

Dinner was indeed an eye-opener. The Gerudo put on a show of their military prowess and a bit of a theatrical production at the same time.

In the massive outdoor dining courtyard that the Gerudo took their meals in, the high table was removed from the raised platform it stood on, turning the area into a makeshift theatre.

Out came ten women, in silk and thin armor, bearing scimitars, daggers, glaives, and even some straight Hylian-style swords. The audience hushed as the women took their positions and froze in place, waiting.

On one corner of the platform four women began to play, on drums and horn, flute and guitar. The performers unfroze, and began to fight each other, movements slow and precise, almost dancing rather than battling.

A scimitar was swung, a narrow dodge, thrust of dagger, parry, and riposte. Circle, feint, strike and block. Sparks flew as steel collided, retreat, circling footwork, then forward to attack once more.

A glaive whirled low, aimed for the legs of the opponents, who leapt up and backwards to escape the blade. They retreated, regrouped and then made their own attack.

The performance continued in this fashion for perhaps fifteen minutes, when the horn sounded loudly and regally, as Ganondorf strode onto the stage, armored and wielding a massive scimitar. Rabiyu entered from the opposite end of the platform, similarly armed with two smaller curved blades.

At first they blended into the two distinct teams battling, but gradually, the women took their lead, and Ganondorf and Rabiyu began to emerge as leaders of the two groups.

The Gerudo King's attacks showed off his technique and power, while Rabiyu's movements displayed her precision and agility.

The original ten women faded out of battle to the sides of the raised stage, until finally it was only the King and his daughter fighting. The intensity and speed of their movements increased, and they began to sweat. The rhythm of the drums increased as the two fighters battled on.

At last Ganondorf seemed to gain the upper hand, and drawing a dagger from his hip, threw the knife at his heir. It spun through the air, flying at her head.

In a beautifully rehearsed action, she caught the blade between her teeth. The Gerudos in the crowd shouted in approval. With a quick motion, her hands still gripping her scimitars, Rabiyu tossed the dagger into the air, this time catching the grip in her mouth. She ran at her father, dodging a swipe of his sword, and stopped in front of him. She swung her head as if to cut his throat with the knife, and Ganondorf stepped back slowly, dropping his scimitar and bowing his head in a gesture of defeat. Rabiyu took a step back as well, and bowed to him, spitting the dagger to the ground. The music stopped.

"And that, good people" Ganondorf shouted to the rapt audience, "Is why you should never underestimate women!" The Gerudo women roared, and the Hylian men, after a moment of hesitation, joined the women in thunderous applause.

* * *

The performers took a quick break to freshen up and change into more comfortable clothing, and joined the people for the feast.

The moons were just rising as the women brought out the food for the night's banquet. The trays smelt mouth-watering. On the precious nights, the crowds had been encouraged to eat from street vendors, and enjoy the entertainment in the streets, so dinner in the common dining area had been a modest affair – the meals larger than usual, but nowhere near this lavish. Not this night. Tonight, the cooks on duty in the kitchens had gone all out.

There was whole roasted Guay, and Cuccoo. Fish baked in a lemony sauce, or thick beef steaks, grilled. And for the more adventurous, there were Tektites steamed in their shell, and fried Leever, both Gerudo delicacies.

One serving table held nothing more than plate after plate of soft strips of naan, and individual dipping bowls which could be filled with melted butter or curry. There were massive servings of saffron rice, and couscous.

There were even fruit and vegetables - staples of Hylian eating but expensive for a Gerudo to get – carrots, celery, different types of squash, and salad greens, apples, peaches, pears, and more, all magically kept cool in the fading heat of night.

The Hylian guests sampled _Kalika_, a creamy, hot local Gerudo drink that tasted of lemon and mint. Fruit juice and milk stayed chilled in charmed pitchers. Coffee was available, but most Gerudo seemed to prefer cooled tea or hot spiced chai tea.

With all this food available, the diners stuffed themselves full to bursting, and as conversation wound down, they slowly headed home to sleep. Worn out from the day of celebration and particularly from the display of military prowess, Ganondorf left the high table (which had been replaced after the performance) early, as did Rabiyu, and Ferrick too.

Nabooru stayed in the dining area late into the night, nursing a cup of chai, and looking at the stars and moons, lost in thought.

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I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Quagmires

Hooboy. This is the mega-chapter.

This chapter practically wrote itself, it went so fast. I've been building towards this for a while, so I guess it makes sense. If you haven't noticed, I love food.

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**Chapter Seven: Of Quagmires**

Rabiyu was awoken by Ferrick returning to bed after using the lavatory down the hall. She sighed as he curled against her on the straw-stuffed mattress, content. She'd only known him for two days, and already she couldn't imagine her life without him.

And he was going to leave in two days. A lifetime of sleeping alone in an empty bed…

Rabiyu had despised her mother for most of her life, for leaving her and her father. But suddenly she could understand why Naotu had left this lonely life for a man's arms. No. Her father had loved her mother. Strong, wise, responsible Ganondorf. There had been no reason for Naotu to be lonely.

She would be strong. Had to be. Ferrick would leave and maybe he'd forget her. They would probably never see each other again, and Rabiyu would just have to go on with her life. She would seduce enough men to become pregnant, raise a child, lead her people when her father died, live a long, productive life the best she could… Two days. Two days to forget about that.

"Make the most of them," she whispered to herself, and Ferrick stirred with a lazy _hm_? "It's nothing." Rabiyu told him, and he settled back into sleep. After a while, she did too.

* * *

The night was unusually chilly for being in the desert, so Ferrick slept lightly.

Footsteps on tiled floor.

Someone in the room…

Rabiyu?

No.

Rabiyu was spooned against him.

A rasp of metal. He opened his eyes to see a dark figure looming over him.

Ferrick sat up quickly just as the blade came down, so the dagger meant for his side only sliced open his forearm. Rabiyu sprung awake next to him when he cried out in pain. Unarmed, Ferrick did the only thing he knew of to defend himself – he tore off the ear cuff on his long ear that suppressed his magic and hurled a bolt of pure magic, everything he had, at the figure. The blast pushed the man away just a step with its force, and lit the room up with blinding light. The assassin reeled, flash-blind. Rabiyu raced to the wall where her weapons were, and the assassin rubbed frantically at his eyes to clear them. Ferrick tackled him from the side. The man was larger and heavier than he was, but caught off balance, he toppled over nonetheless.

"Ferrick! Off!" Rabiyu screamed, and the young Hylian leapt away from the man. She swung a short sword at the intruder, and the man blocked it with his dagger, and took a swing of his own. She dodged the blow, slipped into the man's guard, and with a shriek she buried her sword into the assassin's gut. He screamed as she twisted the blade, slashed wildly at her, and then slumped over when Ferrick swung a carved stone candelabrum into the assassin's head. The man's body twitched on the floor, puddle of blood spreading.

Rabiyu looked ill.

"He tried to kill us!" Ferrick exclaimed unnecessarily. "When we were sleeping!"

"He did. Ferrick… That was my first kill." A crash came from down the hall. Their eyes darted to each other's in horror. "If they're attacking me…"

"Your father!" Ferrick said in realization. They rushed out of the room with their makeshift weapons. As he ran, Ferrick summoned up a ball of bright light that zoomed in front of him, illuminating the corridor.

Sure enough, there was a man in dark clothing lurking outside of the Gerudo King's bedroom. Running in front of Ferrick, Rabiyu gave a scream of rage and charged at the intruder with sword drawn. The man turned as she attacked, his own sword coming around. They clashed, muscles straining, and broke apart to circle and strike again.

Ferrick caught up to Rabiyu, mind working furiously. A traitorous Hylian guest! The King of Hyrule would surely not approve. From what he knew, the Gerudo King had been working to become an ally of Hyrule, and furthermore, to make his territory a province of the great country. This would surely count as treason. And they'd tried to kill Ferrick in his sleep, him, a Hylian – one of their own countrymen!

He circled around the pair fighting in the wide hallway, and darted in to smash the assassin over the head with his stone candelabra, which finally gave in to the stresses of Ferrick's improper use of it and shattered. The man and Rabiyu, locked together, toppled into and through the Gerudo King's bedroom door into the room itself.

Inside the room, Ganondorf leapt out his bed, naked. The assassin tried to go for him, but Rabiyu kept his attention with a flash of her curved sword. And then Ganondorf pounced, arms slipping around the attacker's neck and tangling him into a chokehold. The intruder gasped for air and dropped his weapon. The thick muscles in the Gerudo King's arms flexed, and the man went from red, to purple, to blue, and then he slumped in the King's grasp. Ganondorf released the man, letting the unconscious body flop to the floor.

Ferrick leaned against the doorframe, trying to slow his racing heart. Ganondorf knelt to check that the assassin was still breathing, and rose when he found his would-be attacker was still alive. He gave the man on the floor a kick for good measure, and turned to the two teenagers.

"Thank you. I didn't hear this man until he was in the room – I soundproofed it the night before – he very well may have injured me if you had not come. Rabiyu." He said suddenly, seeing the blood on her nightclothes, "You were attacked as well? Are you wounded?"

"No, Daddy. I'm fine." When he visibly relaxed, she continued. "There was another man, in my room. I… I killed him."

"Good." Ganondorf said, with no real pleasure.

"Good? But you always said we must try not to kill in raids…"

"I did. We should not kill those who do not harm us. But those who openly move to kill us? We must kill them where they stand. It's called self-defense, Rabiyu. Remember that." His amber eyes moved to Ferrick. "Ferrick Rauros. Are you my ally, then?"

"They tried to kill me too, sir." The young man said in response. The King nodded, eyes suddenly sharp and evaluating.

"You're wounded, boy." Ferrick looked at himself, and sure enough, his arm was cut deeply, blood seeping through his nightshirt. Huh. It must have been the adrenaline that kept him from feeling the sting of pain.

"I suppose I am, sir."

"You should hold the edges of the cut together until it can be stitched up. We must get you medical attention, and move this pile of refuse," Here he nodded at the man out cold on the tiled floor, "to a cell, for the guards to interrogate and for the Hylian envoys to explain. And Rabiyu, your room will need cleaning. …Young man, why are you staring at me?" Ferrick tried to look away.

"Oh! Daddy, Hylians aren't used to nudity. You're naked." Rabiyu said, and Ganondorf looked down at himself.

"Indeed I am. I must've forgotten. My apologies if I offended you, Ferrick Rauros." He moved to pull on a pair of trousers and the Hylian looked away.

"I… I understand that it's a difference in cultures, sir." The young man said, red with embarrassment. Ganondorf chuckled shortly.

"Now I understand why she likes you!" Ferrick flushed slightly at what he decided he would take as a compliment.

Now suitably covered, Ganondorf moved to a painted symbol on the wall beside the doorframe. He channeled a flicker of magic into his right hand and pressed it to the symbol. He held it there until the sign was glowing steadily. He leaned in and spoke to it.

"I want a doctor, three guards, and Joruya the chief of the guards in my room in ten minutes. Do you understand?" The symbol pulsed twice in affirmation, then dimmed to a soft glow. The Gerudo King sighed, and leaned away. "How are you feeling?" He addressed Ferrick.

"Um. A little dizzy, sir."

"I thought so." He went out into the hall and took down the flower that was the focus for his sound-barrier spell, and outside sound returned to the room. He reentered his quarters, closing the door and shuttering the windows. "Don't leave the room, and keep your guard up. There may be more to attack us."

The three waited for five tense minutes largely in silence, stiffening when they heard loud footsteps coming down the hall. A complicated knock was rapped out on the door, and Ganondorf grunted to himself.

"That will be Joruya." He opened the door carefully. A tall woman with a pointed nose like a knife peered into the room. Her copper hair was cut perilously close to her head, and her posture was crisp and imperious.

"Intruders, my Lord?" She asked, voice as sharp as her nose and eyes.

"Assassins, Joruya." Ganondorf corrected, gesturing at the man on the floor who was just coming to, and she scowled.

"Nalya, Tanya, take this piece of trash to the prison." Joruya said to two of the guards crisply, and the pair nodded, pulling restraints from the bulky gold sashes that marked them as Fortress law enforcement. "Kolyaru, stay with me."

As the two women were half-dragging, half-prodding the man down the hall, there was a knock. A second knock came from the hallway, and a chubby woman let herself in. She was carrying a large, stiff-sided bag with her – most likely containing medical supplies.

"Someone called for medical care, sire?"

"Yes. The Hylian boy needs attention. You may fix him up in the workroom three rooms down the hall, to the right." The King ordered, and she nodded, gesturing Ferrick to follow her.

"I'm going with Ferrick, Daddy." Rabiyu informed her father, and he shook his head.

"Oh no. You're going to help me give Joruya a proper account of the attack, my dear."

"Fine," She sighed, and kissed Ferrick's cheek as he left.

"I'll be fine." Her paramour assured her, and left with the doctor. Once he was gone she turned back to Joruya, and proceeded to tell the chief of guards what she remembered of the attempted assassinations.

* * *

With the details of the attack retold, Joruya called for another guard to take away the body in Rabiyu's room. A pair of maids were to clean the bloodied room, and more guards ordered to watch the Hylians in their rooms, and inform the Hylian Lord Ambassador of the night's events, and of his sudden appointment with the Gerudo King to explain his men's actions. Ferrick returned with his arm stitched and bandaged, and identified the two men who'd attacked them. The man captured alive was named Tristan Hesta, a Hylian knight, and the dead man was Sir Tristan's squire, Georgio Junstamus.

Rather than wait three hours until dawn, Ganondorf, Rabiyu, and Ferrick relocated to a more secure room with two beds, and under constant surveillance by a trio of guards, fell asleep in the two beds provided by the empty guest room.

* * *

A guardswoman woke Ferrick and Rabiyu at noon, just in time for lunch.

"Why didn't you wake us sooner?" Rabiyu asked of the guard, who shrugged.

"I tried at eight, but you two just rolled over and went back to sleep." She said, "I figured you needed your sleep."

Rabiyu grumbled at this, and the two teenagers headed for Rabiyu's room – corpse gone and blood washed away – to dress for the day.

They headed for lunch, arm in arm.

As Rabiyu drank hot chai, Ferrick helped himself to some _Kalika_ – which he'd become rather fond of – and wondered why all the women were smiling at him. He brought this up to Rabiyu, who was peeling an orange. She grinned at him.

"News travels fast in the Fortress." She said simply. "We may need men for reproductive purposes, but we're not over fond of them, except for my father – who takes care of us all. When my people lived in Lake Hylia, we Gerudo had many men. Not as many men as women, but enough. They looked after us, and we trusted them. When our men were all wiped out and we were driven to the Wasteland, Hylian men could have been kind, but they mistreated us. So we no longer trust men – not until they've proved their worth. But the thing is – we start out wanting to trust men, but learn we can't. It's not realistic."

"And I've 'proved my worth'?" He wondered, not sure he liked the concept, not exactly.

"Ferrick." Rabiyu said gently. "You're kind to me. You helped save the King's life. But most importantly, you saved a Gerudo from one of your own people. That counts for a lot." The youth frowned.

"Huh. Okay." He said after a moment, going back to his naan and curry.

* * *

Rabiyu had left Ferrick in the library – he might have been leaving in two days, but everyone needed a little alone time – when she happened upon her father in his study.

He was gripping the edge of the desk, both hands white-knuckled. His brow was furrowed, thin lips pressed together tightly. Ganondorf looked positively furious.

"Daddy? What's wrong." He grimaced, and shook his head as if to shake something off. When he finally looked at her, he seemed a little calmer, but his eyes still blazed.

"That filth – the knight Tristan – had poison on him, in a capsule in his mouth. We only managed to get out of him that he was hired to kill us – and not by a Hylian." Rabiyu went white under her dark skin. "He said he was hired by a Gerudo woman. And then he bit down on the capsule, and was gone."

"Was it Tabiya?" His daughter wondered, and Ganondorf sighed.

"Apparently not. She has alibis for every night the Hylians have been here. But you are smart to think of her." Rabiyu shrugged.

"She's the only I can think of who would benefit from having both of us – and Ferrick – out of the way."

"Whoever it was, your boy Ferrick was not a hired target. But the man you killed – Georgio – he's next in line of inheritance of the family fortune after Ferrick, who is an only child. When he saw your lover in bed with you, he must have thanked his lucky stars and went after him first."

"I can't believe anyone would kill their own family, just like that!" She exclaimed, aghast.

"Hylians are colder-blooded than our people. Power, money, influence – to many Hylians these are more important than family. Even Tabiya would not kill her mother or sisters, let alone her daughters, just to be Queen." Rabiyu shook her head at that.

"That's awful. Daddy, could she have hired the two assassins in advance? We have been planning this party for some time…"

"And who better to blame than the Hylians? Clever girl. However, this attempt seems to be too obvious, too desperate for Tabiya's taste. The Hylian Ambassador seemed appalled at the news, even offered to undergo a truth ritual to prove his innocence, as did all of the men we questioned. And legally, I cannot force Tabiya to do a truth ritual, so it seems we are left without an answer." Rabiyu made a loud, rude noise in the back of her throat.

"Is anyone guarding Nabooru and her family?" She wondered, and Ganondorf nodded.

"Already done, as of last night. I will be keeping Tabiya's movements under watch from now on. If she did order the attack, hopefully she will be wise enough not to try again."

"I hope so. But what I want to know is why last night? You'd think that after we showed off our ability to fight our attackers might be more cautious."

"Perhaps once they saw what we were capable of, they thought they should approach us when we were tired."

"I guess. Why in this world did they think they could away with it?" A flicker of frustration and annoyance sparked in the King's eyes.

"Enough, Rabiyu." He growled, "You ask too many questions to which I don't know the answers." She wilted.

"Sorry." He made a strangled noise of deep frustration.

"Stop that. I'm not mad at you. We've come out of this alive, but uninformed. My hands are tied,--"

"--And you hate not being in control." Rabiyu finished for him.

"Yes." He pinched the bridge of his nose and flapped a hand at her. "Leave me please. I have work to do, and you have your young man's company to enjoy. Enjoy it – it won't last much longer."

"Don't remind me, father." She growled, sounding quite a bit like her own father as she did. Ganondorf shrugged expressively.

"I'll see you at dinner, Rabiyu." He said, and she turned to leave, shutting the office door behind her.

* * *

The fourth day went by like a flash of lightning. Neither Ferrick or Rabiyu mentioned their upcoming separation to each other, simultaneously making themselves fret even more over it.

They joined the festivities on the street that night. The atmosphere was more subdued, because of the attack, but the partygoers still enjoyed themselves. It was a good night. The only incident was when a knight approached Ferrick in the crowd.

"Ferrrick. Raurrosss." He slurred, definitely intoxicated, "Yeh – Ambassador's aide, boy. You like that girl, yeh? You doin' foreign relations inna way no man did afore." A finger was shakily at Ferrick's chest. "Keepit up boy, keepin' it up." The man finished, swaying where he stood. Ferrick squinted at the man, trying to identify him in the torchlight.

"Sir Fran?" He wondered. The man nodded, then grabbed at his head, grimacing, obliviously regretting the gesture.

"Yes boy, thas my name, don' wearit out." Ferrick sighed, glancing apologetically at Rabiyu.

"Are you feeling tired, sir?"

"A lil'."

"Would you like me to help you back to the palace? The way is rather dark, after all."

"Yeh. You'r a good boy, Raurosss."

"Thank you sir." Ferrick hooked an arm around Sir Fran's, and turned to Rabiyu. "I'm going to take him to his room. Do you want to come, or should we meet up somewhere?"

"I'll come."

"I hope you don't mind." He said apologetically. She shrugged, jostled by the women in the crowds.

"You're a good person, Ferrick." Rabiyu said quietly. He smiled at her.

"Thank you."

Supporting the Hylian knight together, they made their way back to the palace, saw Sir Fran to his rooms, and headed back to the streets.

They stayed long into the night, and returned to Rabiyu's rooms to sleep within earshot of a guard standing vigilant throughout the night.

* * *

Morning dawned early that day. The fifth and final day.

Rabiyu watched Ferrick dress quietly from her spot on the low bed, hair and bedclothes draped around her shoulders.

"Ferrick?"

"Hm?" He wondered, and she swallowed thickly.

"I don't… I don't want this to end. Us, I mean." He looked at her, hazel eyes meeting her own amber ones.

"Does it have to?"

"Well, yes. You're going to leave to live in the Hylian capital, and I'll stay here in the Fortress. We probably won't meet again."

"Why? I want to see you again."

"Because you have obligations, to your family and estate, as I have duties here with my people." Ferrick smiled, and shook his head wrily.

"I'm the official aide to the Hylian Ambassador to the Gerudos now, Rabiyu. The Lord Ambassador informed me he wants to employ me on a long-term basis, yesterday. We'll be going back and forth from Hyrule Castle City to the Fortress, and even making stops at the border town Parchen – which is a half-day's ride from here, just on the edge of the Plains and drought country. We can send each other letters – meet in person several times a year. It doesn't have to end like this. You don't have to be alone."

"Of course I will! All my life I've known I'll have to be alone, nothing but work and duties 'til the day I die!" She raged, eyes going puffy and red, tears leaking out. "You may want this to last, but a long-distance relationship never works. One of us is going to slip away. Why not just end it on a good note?"

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" Ferrick sighed, gangly frame leaning against the bedroom wall. "I don't want this to end, and I'm pretty sure you don't either. If we can get the Haunted Wasteland to be a part of Hyrule, the way your father wants, a Hylian representative will have to live among the Gerudo. I could be that representative. I like it here, others might not. The Gerudo like me – you said it yourself. You've got to look to the future, it might not be so bad." He rose then, brushing a gentle hand over her wet cheek. "I'm going to breakfast. You might want to wash your face with cold water – I don't think you want to appear in front of the officials looking as if you'd been crying. Which you have." He gave her a gentle kiss, and left.

Rabiyu sniffled in her room for a few minutes, before bucking herself up and washing her face and dressing.

* * *

After breakfast the Hylian entourage presented Hyrule's gifts to Rabiyu for her coming of age. Ferrick stood next to her in the showroom the men had hastily erected in one of the larger rooms of the palace.

There were six fine horses, to improve the Gerudo's prized horse-breeding bloodlines.

Delicately brewed perfumes in colored glass bottles – the glass craftsmanship not as fine as standard Gerudo glasswork, but lovely nonetheless.

Time-sealed jars of apples, pears, grapes, melons, nuts, citrus fruits, caviar, truffles, and honey. Rabiyu opened a sealed basket of apples, biting into it with delight.

A range of gold and silver jewelry, ranging in tastes from bulky and gauche to delicate and lovely.

Beautiful ceramic jars and urns to hold water.

Fine soaps, wonderfully scented.

Bolts of vividly dyed fabrics, wool, cotton, and linen.

Elaborate wood carvings, pieces made to hang on walls, and small statues to stand on their own for display.

But it was the books, carefully bound in leather that made Rabiyu forget propriety and bodily grab Ferrick in a tight hug, beaming with delight. He grinned down at her, a little dazed from her force. There were books on Hylian court etiquette, poetry, history, warfare, and books of prayer. Having known her for four days, Ferrick now knew that Rabiyu valued knowledge very highly.

"Thank you," She whispered, smiling, "Oh. Thank you." Sir Fran, standing tall near the two, smiled down toothily at the Gerudo princess.

"It weren't nothing, Princess." He said in his uneducated voice, a strange difference in the more refined tones of the other Hylians and his own.

Despite the attack the night before, and two Hylian soldiers dead, it was a good moment for Hylian-Gerudo relations.

* * *

For dinner, the cooks served paella in the dining courtyard, a seafood and rice dish flavored with saffron and spice, to celebrate the last night of the Hylian's visit at the Fortress.

That night Rabiyu and Ferrick did not couple, simply lay in bed and held each other, talking late into the night.

"I'll tell you that first thing I'm going to do when I get home," He told her, stroking her shoulder. She smiled.

"Other than write me a letter?"

"Well, yes - other than that. I'm going to learn how to fight – magically and physically. So much has happened in the past five days. Two weeks ago I'd never been past the city wall. I've travelled across the Greater Hyrule Plains, come here, been attacked in the night, nearly assassinated, and met you. I want to be prepared for anything that might happen, especially since I'm going to be travelling a lot in the future, across the plains, where there are highwaymen waiting for lone travelers, and stalchildren at night."

"Mmm." She said dreamily, and he looked over at her, smiling sheepishly.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" Ferrick asked with a huff of laughter.

"Nn." She cuddled against him, eyes drooping.

"Well, goodnight, Rabiyu."

"'Night."

They slept.

* * *

Ferrick woke Rabiyu up an hour before dawn. She dragged herself out of bed without complaint, splashing lukewarm water onto her face from an urn in the small washroom in her quarters. Ferrick was already dressed in travelling clothes – made of thin cotton, he had been far more prepared for the journey than his fellow envoys, and had not packed anything made of wool. She dressed with a minimum of clumsiness, and hand in hand, they headed for the kitchens.

The kitchens that fed the Gerudo were located in a separate building from the palace so the food smells would not enter the palatial residential and administrative building. Even at this early hour, the cooks were awake, baking pita bread and cooking rice for the morning buffet available to the Gerudo every morning. A long table stood in the breakfast room of the kitchen, located just off of the main entrance to the kitchens.

Typically, food was available for breakfast from just before dawn to two hours before dawn. Women would come, carrying the traditional canvas bag for breakfast, select foods for their meal, and head for their own private spot to enjoy the morning, alone.

Meat was not served at breakfast, by a Gerudo custom dating back to their ancestors' settlement of Lake Hylia. Eggs were cooked in several different ways – fried, poached, boiled in their shell, and broken-and-boiled in broth. There were thick slices of cheese, a variety of citrus fruits, and dates. Yogurt and sticky rice came in single-serving disposable bowls made from palm fronds and a thin coating of wax. There were pita bread pockets stuffed with aged cheese, nuts, and honey – a dish called _nakne_. There was an egg casserole made of pita, onion, and cheese layered upon each other, soaked in egg and then baked – by the name of _nagyen_. Honey, butter, and sour orange jam were all available to spread on warm, unleavened bread.

There were great steaming vats of tea, coffee, and _Kalika_ - the creamy lemon-mint drink favored by many Gerudo – as well as cold barrels of citrus juices and milk, all ready to be poured into a canteen and taken away.

The food was still being laid out when Ferrick and Rabiyu entered, and they made their selections, filling the two canvas breakfast bags Rabiyu had brought, and left. She took him down a winding path through the Fortress's back alleys, ending close to the edge of town, where a small shrine and attending benches were carved from the red sandstone cliff.

"This is where I eat breakfast every morning." She said, as if this was an important secret, something special to tell someone's lover. For all Ferrick knew, perhaps it was.

Rabiyu laid her breakfast bag on a stone bench, kneeling to clear the sand away from the shrine. On a small pedestal sat the crudely carved statue of the Goddess Din, eyes made of red gems - garnets, rubies, maybe only red glass. Stubs of candles and used incense cones littered the Goddess's feet.

"No flowers?" She shook her head, frowning.

"We have very few flowers here. Why would we pick them and end their lives that much sooner?"

"Oh. Sorry. I forgot.

* * *

" Rabiyu shrugged. She sat back once the sand was clear of the shrine, and pulled herself onto the bench, pulling out some sticky _nakne_ to munch on.

"I'd imagine I'd do the same thing if I were in the Hylian capital." She said, washing down pita bread with a gulp of _Kalika _from her canteen.

"I suppose." After that they were quiet as they ate, tracking the sun as it rose over the edge of the desert in the west. The wind blew sand over their shoes, whining. Rabiyu's amber eyes were thoughtful but content. Ferrick watched her for a while, wanting to remember her like this once he had gone.

At last it came time to return to the palace, and for Ferrick to meet up with his fellow Hylians and leave. He'd packed the previous night, and a cleaning woman had already taken his things and brought them to the caravan that would take the Hylians home. He and Rabiyu kissed desperately before parting. They would not break decorum and touch again in public.

The Hylians saddled up, and swung themselves onto their horse's back. Rabiyu watched from the palace steps, standing at Queen Nabooru's side.

Gerudo King Ganondorf paused to speak to each Hylian before they left. He shook hands with the young Hylian aide, and smiled somberly at him.

"Ferrick Rauros, you are welcome here."

"Thank you sir, I will extend the courtesy and say that you are also welcome in my family's lands. Good morrow, sir." He said formally in return. Ganondorf nodded, eyes approving.

"Good morrow, young man, and a swift journey."

The train of travelers began to move, and their speed was deceptive. Ferrick did not push his steed hard, yet the Fortress quickly melted away, as did the high gate, and soon it was noon and the entrance to the valley was small and distant.

Finally, Ferrick stopped turning in his saddle and faced forward, looking at the train of horses ahead. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

It was time to go home.

* * *

Rabiyu stood on the steps of the palace. When the Hylians were gone, Link came out of hiding in the shade of the alleys. He'd worn a turban the entire time the guests had been there, to hide his ears, but even then his mother had kept him away from the men, so his secret could not be discovered.

"Sister Rabiyu!" He said, tugging at her pants and snapping her out of her melancholy. "C'mon! You promised to show me that trick with the sword once the Hylians were gone!"

"Coming, Link." She said, surprised by the smile that spread across her face.

Link gave a yelp of delight and dragged her to the fighting grounds.

* * *

And that's chapter seven!

Link and his friends will star in the next chapter, which has been written. So now I must write chap. nine - which I've been building to, again, so that should write itself.

For those who are picky, no, most Gerudo girls don't meet nice boys like Ferrick, and thus do not fall in love with men. It's all about trust. Remember - the Gerudo are not biologically men-haters, as they used to have many men of their own race.

So, why are so few men born to the Gerudos? Simple. The Gerudos have a genetic disorder, carried by the X chromosome, but activated by the Y chromosome. An activated disorder causes the embryo to die or miscarry, thus only women are born. Except once every one hundred years a male is conceived that has immunity to the disorder, thus causing a King to be born to the Gerudos every hundred years or so. Sound good?

For better or worse, Rabiyu and Ferrick's relationship is not normal, and should not be taken as such.

* * *

Reviews? Reviews are adored.


	8. Learning

So it's been a while. I've started school up again, with an increased course load, but fear not - I'm still writing.

Link is once again the focus! He's eight in this.

Nothing big in this chapter, it's all set up, really.

Everything you don't recognize is mine. Seriously. With some major alterations, I will be publishing this.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Of Learning**

* * *

Her eyes were shut tight as she played her ocarina, perched on a fallen log in the woods. Skulkids sat at her feet, listening to the melodies escaping from the instrument in her hands, music wilder than any professional musician could produce, vivid and improvisational.

With her eyes shut, and music in her ears, her senses expanded. She could feel the Skulkids lounging on a bed of moss by her log seat, a jay alert in a nearby beech, a deku scrub in its nest, a wolfos rooting at the entrance of a rabbit warren. An owl sleeping in a tree hollow, a pair of fox kits squabbling over a bit of tendon and bone in their den, insects buzzing past her skin, and Mido approaching from half a mile away.

Saria exhaled slowly, note warbling. She let her mind brush through the music, searching for Link's mind, but he was not playing his ocarina at the moment.

His friendship was precious to her – she'd felt a connection with him even when she'd first seen him, felt the touch of destiny, and then of destiny thwarted when the Gerudo raider had claimed him as her own.

It was incredible, really, how fast he was growing. His voice changed, mind learning new concepts, growing in complexity. She'd never realized how swiftly time passed for her and her fellow Kokiri - immortal but immature – not until she'd met Link and watched him grow. To make things even more intriguing, the barren land he lived in fascinated her, and the forest held a certain interest for Link as well.

She could only hope that she was grown up enough, smart and interesting enough for him to maintain an interest in her when he'd reached adulthood.

* * *

"Mum! Get up! It's time to wake up!" Link jumped up and down on the spot in glee.

Nabooru grunted, and rubbed at her eyes, rolling over on the thick bed roll in her room.

"Nn. What time is it, Link?"

"It's seven o'clock. I even looked at the courtyard clock, not just the sun, too! Reya and Aunties Aya and Dinah got up at dawn because it's her first day of training too, and they prob'ly already had breakfast by now, but you said to wait until seven so I did." He finished breathlessly.

"All right, I'm up, I'm up!" She said, levering herself up and stretching luxuriously before climbing to her feet. Nabooru dressed quickly. She eyed her son. "Training starts at ten. Have you got your sword?"

"In the common room, Mum."

"And your bow?"

"Uh-huh."

"And your sandals?"

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Fine then. Let's go to breakfast." Link nodded, and grabbed his practice weapons, strapping them on, and snatched up his breakfast bag. He was so excited that he barely remembered to tap the doorframe as they left the apartment.

They hurried to the kitchens, where the breakfast buffet was set up. Nabooru helped herself to a small helping of _nagyen, _butter and naan, and coffee, as well as an orange. Link had milk, broken-and-boiled eggs poached in vegetable broth, a bowl of rice, some cubes of cheddar, and a clementine at his mother's insistence. She also kept him from eating too much sticky and sweet _nakne_, despite his whining and pleading.

They returned to the apartment complex to eat together in the rock garden courtyard. Nabooru and her family had decided to stay in their old home despite Nabooru's elevation to Queen of the Gerudos. The apartment they lived in was spacious enough, though the second-hand furniture had been replaced by high quality furnishings. Ganondorf had pushed Nabooru to move into the palace with him, offering her her own set of private rooms as well as for Link, but she'd declined, stating that living in her current home would keep her humble. And it had. Ganondorf had graciously let the matter go.

"Come on, then." She urged when they finished their meal, sitting on a wooden bench in a shady recess in the courtyard wall. Link made a face but tilted his chin up, so his adopted mother could wipe his face with a damp rag. When she drew back, he eyed the position of the sun.

"Mum, it's eight now. Can I go play? There's lots of time."

"No. I know you – you'll wear yourself out and then you'll drag behind your agemates in training."

"No I won't!"

"You want to show those agemates of yours that you're just as good a Gerudo as them, laddy-boy, don't you?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, kicking at a stone in the sand strewn road.

"Then no playing." Link slumped slightly at that announcement. "Not this morning, baby. Mummy knows best." She reached out and drew him into a hug with one arm. The eight-year old grabbed her waist in a hug, breathing her scent in, and letting it soothe him.

"Fine." He said into her blouse.

"Tell you what, why don't we go to the library and pick out some books to read?"

"'Kay." He said a little more enthusiastically, frown fading.

"Come on then, Link, let's go."

"Okay, Mum."

Nabooru took his hand and headed for the library.

* * *

Ten o' clock came, the sun beating down high overhead.

Five children stood in a line in one of the Gerudo Fortress's training grounds.

Link stood in the sand, artificially red hair shining in the sun. His cousin Reya, slim and dark-skinned, stood beside him, eyes confident but quiet.

They'd played together with Haati and Sooru before – they were Link and Reya's agemates, after all. Shy Haati was the daughter of Saaboru, the head of the Industry Guild, which looked after mining, glassworks, construction, the smithies, general manufacturing, and transportation. Stubborn Sooru was Kooru's daughter, again an important figure among the Gerudo – Kooru was the leader of the Arts Guild.

But the fifth girl they did not know. She was tall, even for her age – and she looked at least two years older than Link. Her clothes were not as high quality as the other children's, her blunt practice weapons had seen hard use. She wore ratty straw sandals rather than ones of leather. Her scarlet-eyed gaze was hard, and focused, her lips pinched tight.

Overall, she did not look like someone very fun, the other four decided unanimously but silently.

Soft footsteps, crunching on dust and sand, approached. To the quintet's surprise, their tutor was the princess Rabiyu herself.

"That's enough, stop gawking." She said briskly. "I'm to be your instructor. First time for you, first time for me." Rabiyu stopped in front of the line of children, rubbing her hands together as she considered them. "Most of you are under my tutelage because you're the offspring of high-profile women, except for Aru," She nodded at the shabbily dressed, tall girl, "Who is here because she's a genius." Aru did not smile at this, just nodded back silently. "None of you are from old lineages, so you don't have family tutors and old money, all of your families are up and coming. For whatever reason, your mothers put you in the public formal training system now that you've graduated from school, and I was assigned to you. What you will learn will be a bit different from what the other children will be learning – I'm training you to be the leaders of your generation – and that means you'll be learning all about Hylians as well as everything else."

Sooru made a rude noise.

"Stop that Sooru, I heard that. Our King wants the Gerudos to become part of Hyrule proper, so it's important to learn about the country we'll be a part of. And besides, you won't be learning about that for a while yet." Rabiyu grinned at them. "Enough talking. You've all learned the basics of weapons form, so today I'm going to teach you exercises to build up your strength and stamina."

Link groaned quietly. Reya jabbed him in the side with her elbow and he quieted.

"Right. Follow me. We're going to do some running drills." She led them past the Fortress walls to the edge of the Wasteland, to the base of an oversized sand dune. "I want you to run up the dune, over the side, and back again, ten times. On my mark… Get going!"

The five children hurriedly obeyed.

* * *

Rabiyu kept the first day of formal training short, as the children were unused to so much exercise. As the first day drew to a close, the children's mothers came to bring them home. The Gerudo princess sent them off with strict orders about their bedtime as they left.

She walked the unnaturally quiet Aru to her home when no one came for her.

* * *

As the days went by, the training began to take a regular pattern. There would be a day of physical training, followed by a day of education.

The physical side of it was fairly predictable; strength and stamina drills, weapons (scimitar, knife, glaive) and bare-handed combat forms, and archery practice. They were given lessons on horsemanship, a field in which Reya needed no further instruction. She ended up helping Rabiyu with the others. After that first day of training in horsemanship, Dinah warned her daughter not to let it swell her head overmuch. Rabiyu began instructing Link separately on a Hylian-style straight sword, declaring, "One day you may have to pass as a normal Hylian, and you'd best be prepared for it."

Haati fumbled through every exercise, and only Link's encouragements kept her going. Sooru was fairly even in what she did, but often sulked when she was not the best in their group in whatever activity they were doing at the time. Reya was best in archery, particularly on horseback. Aru excelled at everything, stoic and relentless. She rarely spoke, but as time went on, the other four discovered she had a dry wit to her. As the five grew to know each other better, she opened up to them, and often made sharp remarks.

Link struggled in most things at first, despite being a boy and thus theoretically stronger. He was best in hand-to-hand combat, but not much else. But his stubborn persistence paid off, and he eventually maintained a skill level just below Aru's once he'd mastered a skill.

Several months in they were started on lock-picking, wall and tree climbing, pick-pocketing, and dirty fighting.

The children's favorite part of physical training was the games Rabiyu created for them. She'd invent war games, games to teach them strategy, games to test what they'd learned, even silly games like who could run backwards or roll down a sand dune fastest.

On the other days, Rabiyu trained them in more intellectual areas. She picked out books for them to read – to increase their reading rate and teach them different subjects. Sometimes they read aloud to improve their diction, or quietly – often they were given reading as homework, and were expected to discuss what they'd read the next day. She assigned them mathematical problems (which Link adored), typically word problems that were immediately applicable to the children's lives. Some days were spent simply creating different arts and crafts projects.

It was these intellectual pursuits that Link did best in.

Rabiyu took the children on trips to the different industries of the Fortress. They were taken to the glassworks, on a two day trip to the mines, led into the heart of the massive Gerudo kitchens, shown a construction site, the center for the law enforcement and security. The five children were shown the Mage's building, given a tour of the Gauntlet, the waterworks, a few livestock farms and fisheries in the broad Gerudo Valley. They were taken behind the scenes of several art events – in the Fortress, such events were free admission for all. She even took them to see King Ganondorf working in his office, to his great displeasure. (Link was pretty sure the only reason she got away with that stunt because she was the king's favorite daughter.) So it was no surprise that 'field trips' - as Rabiyu called them – would become the highlight of intellectual training for Link, Reya, Aru, Haati and Sooru.

For two weeks during the height of summer, the children were given swimming lessons a few hours every day before lunch, when the sun was at its zenith. A section of the Bathing Falls was roped off during these lessons.

With every day but Highday busy with training, the days passed quickly, and before they knew it, Rabiyu's students had trained under her for a year and were ready to be trained in magic.

Of course, as most things went, there were bound to be some difficulties on that first day.

* * *

For those who forgot, _nagyen_ is an egg dish made by layering pita, chopped sweet onion (sautéed until caramelized), and thin slices of mild cheese in a casserole dish, and soaking the layers with egg (raw, yolk and white scrambled with a little milk and salt). The dish is then sprinkled with mustard powder and paprika, and baked, then cut into squares. _Nakne_ is a sweet breakfast food consisting of a pita pocket stuffed with aged dry cheese, toasted nuts (pecans/walnuts - which must be imported - and almonds, which are locally grown), and honey. Some variations also include chopped dates or figs. I created both of these dishes, and they're delicious.

Gerudo mothers are expected to teach their daughters to read and write, do basic maths, and the basic weapons forms. Women with jobs with long hours can make use of schools run by the state, but only if their financial situation and job hours meet the required conditions. For those who cannot afford practice weapons, most armories can loan weapons for such a use.

Here's Link's agemates:

Reya, Link's cousin. She is six months younger than Link, making her the youngest of Link's agemates. Her sire is Ganondorf, so she is in a long line for the throne. She's very good with horses.

Aru is two years older than Link, and is a scholarship girl of sorts. She is a genius when it comes to physical combat. She lives with her great-aunt in a poorer part of the Fortress.

Haati is a year older than Link. She is very shy, but artistic. Her mother is the head of the industrial guilds of the Fortress.

Sooru is Link's age. Cocky, egotistical, proud, but intelligent. Her mother is the head of the arts guild.

On the world that Hyrule is located on, the calendar is a little different. Days are thirty-two hours long – so every always gets plenty of sleep. A week is comprised of five days: Sunsday, Moonsday (because there are two moons – Luna and Seles), Starsday, Landsday, and Highday. Highday is the holy day across Hyrule, and is called Godsday by the rest of the world apart from Hyrule. A month is twenty days long, according to the lunar cycle, and there are twenty months a year. So, thirty-two hours in a day, five days a week, twenty days/four weeks a month, four hundred days a year.

I imagine that the Gerudo Valley has a climate that's a mix of desert, scrubland, and Mediterranean. This Hyrule is on a much bigger scale than the game, so there is enough room for separate climates in the valley. If you want a reference for the differences in scale here's an example: in the game, it takes one day of non-stop travel on foot to cross Hyrule Field. In COTS, it takes four weeks on horseback to cross the field, which is so massive that it is called the Great Hyrule Plains. The soil in the valley is fertile enough at some points that the Gerudo can feed cattle and Cuccoos, grow date palms, figs, almond and citrus trees, some spice trees. Remember that the Zora River runs right through the valley, so water is readily available and the Gerudos have an advanced irrigation system to take advantage of the water.

* * *

I love reviews. Did you know we're three reviews away from 100? I'm amazed and flattered, really. However, just because we're reaching the hallowed hundred mark doesn't mean anyone needs to skimp on reviews. Hint hint, nudge wink, know what I mean, ay?


	9. Magic

Here's the next chapter. A nice fat chapter for you all.

In my version of Hyrule, every individual is capable of magic, and each race has its own unique way of using magic.

Everything you don't recognize is mine. Seriously. With some major alterations, I will be publishing this.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Of Magic**

* * *

Rabiyu canceled training for four days before Link's agemates were due to be trained in magic. She claimed it was to come up with some kind of lesson plan, and mentioned an impressive display of magic for their first day. But Link knew she was really going to leave the Fortress and ride to Parchen to meet that strange Hylian who was courting her. They were going to kiss and have 'special alone time' like what his aunties Aya and Dinah had sometimes in their room, the door locked. Or what he was pretty sure King Ganondorf did with his Mum when she slept in the palace overnight. His adopted mother was married to Ganondorf, which Link supposed made the man his father, but Gerudo relationships did not really work that way. Link and the King rarely talked, though the man would always acknowledge Link when he saw him. He would ask a question about Link's education, or the weather, some trivial kind of subject. Link wasn't always comfortable around the King, because of the way the man would watch him, amber eyes fixed and intent.

Link made a note in his mind to tease Rabiyu about her lover later, when he could. But not in front of his agemates. That would be mean. He saw Rabiyu as an older sister, almost. She often took the time to help him with his weapons forms, even before formal training. She'd taught him the fox and sand cat forms for bare-handed combat, shown him to throw a knife. Rabiyu always recommended the best books, and sometimes she sat next to him at the high table during lunch or dinner.

He hoped she'd be back soon. Until then, there was practice, and play.

* * *

"What? There is not."

"Is."

"Is not."

"So is. Lanya told me there's a treasure behind the Grand Cascade." Sooru folded her arms, self-satisfied.

Link's brow furrowed.

"The water would wash anything that's there away." Sooru snorted at that.

"I didn't say it was right there, Link. I said behind. Lanya said it's in a deep cave you can get to behind the falls."

"Shut it! Both of you!" Aru snapped, who had been spinning a blunt dagger on her finger, snatched it up and sheathed it. "Rabiyu's coming!"

"I don't think anything's there, Sooru." Link said with a grumble, yawning widely. It was barely dawn.

"I dare you to check it out." Sooru said with a sneer.

Aru smacked both of them on the head, settling into line for their instructor.

"I said shut up. You know she likes us to wait quietly!"

Link stuck his tongue out at her. He nudged Sooru's ankle with his foot to get her attention.

"Done." He told her quietly. Sooru grinned. Reya looked on in silent disapproval.

* * *

"Just look at all your shining faces!" Rabiyu said as she approached, clapping her hands together. The sun had just crept over the horizon in the west. "Did you have a good break?"

"Was yours?" Link countered. The princess gave him a feral grin, making her look uncannily like her father in that moment.

"Oh yes." Reya and Haati smothered giggles behind their hands. "As I'm sure you've heard by now, I was visiting my lover in Parchen. I went to see him for three reasons. One, of course, was because I wanted to see him. Second, he's a mage of some ability and has been helping me with my lesson plans for your magical training, and I did need the help – I like fighting far better than magic. Lastly, Hylians use magic differently from our people, so he's lent me a device that will help in figuring out what Link can do with his magic. Now. I promised to give you a demonstration of some of the things magic can do. So let's head out to the desert. Follow me."

Obediently the five children followed their instructor to the gate that separated the Fortress from the Haunted Wasteland.

"Ho there!" The gatekeeper shouted down the road as they neared her, waving. "What's your business in the wide Waste?"

"Training exercise, Nooya." Rabiyu said, and the woman nodded, pulling the small gate open by herself.

The gate to the desert was miniscule compared to the one that led to the Hylian Plains. Traffic through this gate was infinitely less, as few found a reason to enter the scorching wasteland, the few that did either older girls on their way to their Woman's Ordeal, or dreamers looking to fast for several days in the harsh expanse – claiming that visions came upon at the height of hunger or thirst. Such dreamers were sent out with a reasonable amount of food and drink, and a temporary tracking seal applied to their skin. They were given a set time to return to the Fortress, or be tracked down and returned to the Fortress by force. This procedure had been invented by King Ganondorf himself, to see that visionaries were not lost through their own foolishness. There had only been a single loss so far since the new rules were put into effect – and by scorpion sting, not carelessness with necessities.

"When should I expect you back?" Nooya the gatekeeper asked, pulling out a records book.

"We should be back in four hours. I have a tracking sigil on my person." The older woman scribbled intently, then nodded.

"Very well then, Princess. I'll see you in a few."

"Thank you, Nooya."

Rabiyu led her students out into the desert and had them sit against the outer wall of the Fortress.

"I'd like you all to take off your ear clips." She said. "As you all know, you wear these to keep you from using your magic until you're old enough to be trained. Well, you're old enough now. Link, I know you don't wear one – don't worry about that – because Hylian magic is different from Gerudo magic. I'll be instructing you separately with your magic, but I want you here to learn about Gerudo magic too. Is that all right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Link said, frowning. He didn't like his Hylian differences pointed out. It made him feel like a fake.

"Buck it up, my lad. Now girls, do you notice a difference, now that your clip is off?" The four girls nodded.

"Feels… fizzy and cold." Reya volunteered, scrunching up her nose.

"That's right. Our power makes us feel cooler, where a Hylian's would not. But it should not feel fizzy. We get our power from the sun. Now concentrate on the sun on your skin, let it sink into your pores and into your body. Let it melt your cold, fizzy magic, taking deep breaths in," (As one the children sucked in a breath) "Hold it in," (they did) "And out in a deep breath," (Link and the girls exhaled slowly) "Keeping your lungs empty for a moment, and then deep breath again. Hold it, then out, hold, and in again." Rabiyu led them through several minutes of measured breathing before stopping them. "And stop. Do you still feel fizzy?" A chorus of 'no's. "That's what your magic should feel like, cool, but moving calmly. Whenever you feel a fizzing sensation, that means your power is not in control, and you should not attempt any kind of spell. Without control, whatever magic you are working will go awry. Women have died because of spells going wrong on them. Remember this. No magic when you feel fizzy. Got it?"

"Yeah." Reya said. Aru gave a sharp nod, while Haati timidly agreed.

"Fine, sure." Sooru said cockily, leaning against the mud-brick wall. A muscle in Rabiyu's cheek twitched as she regarded her most disobedient pupil, but she let it go with a slow breath. She rolled her shoulders a bit as she stood up.

"Let's start you on your first bit of magic. All Gerudo with some magical aptitude will never get lost on the way to a known location. Look at the gate. Concentrate on that cold, calm feeling, letting it flow through your veins. Remember what that gate looks like, how the wood is a little cracked, the paint faded from the sun, how it hangs from its hinges. Close your eyes, thinking of the gate, and put a little of that cold magic into the image in your mind. Have you done it, everyone?" A chorus of agreement from the girls. Link stayed silent. "Reya, come here, I'm going to spin you. Thank you. Now, close your eyes." As Reya obeyed, Rabiyu spun her around several times one way, then changed directions, until the young girl was disoriented. "Keep your eyes closed, Reya, and point in the direction of the gate." Without pause, Reya pointed directly at the gate, which stood behind her. "Does anyone else want to try?" Sooru and Aru clamored to try, while Haati declined. Link watched quietly, feeling left out.

"Can I sit next to you, Link?" Haati asked in her soft breathy voice, bronze skin dark with a blush.

"Sure." He said, shrugging. Haati sat down. She was so… wimpy. So unlike most strong, independent Gerudo women. She lagged behind in training, both physical and mental. The only thing she was good at was art, and even then she wasn't very confident about it. Link felt no need to brush her off or inform her of her weaknesses – it was painfully obvious she was already well aware of their existence. Letting Haati know what he really thought of her would be cruel, even if she had crush on him and all he wanted her to do was leave him alone – and stop looking at him like he'd hung the moons in the sky. If he had to like a girl like that, he would pick Aru. Reya was nicer, but she was practically his sister. Aru was far more interesting than Haati, with her sharp tongue, awesome fighting skills, and bright red eyes. She was funny, she was smart, she was strong, and she kept him from acting stupid, sometimes.

"Stop daydreaming, you lump." Aru's voice was dry but amused. Link grinned up at her as she gave him a hand up and pulled him to his feet.

"Thank you, Aru." Rabiyu said with a smirk, then clapped her hands together, startling the five trainees. "Time for everyone to get up. We have a bit of a journey for this next part. I'm going to show the way to an oasis – so you'll be able to find it the next time you're in the Wasteland. You all have the food and water I asked you to pack?" One by one the children all nodded. "Good. Let's head out, then. But before that, Link. Come here." When Link was at her side she handed him something heavy and round. It was a compass, just a little too big for his hand, outer case colored a deep cobalt, the face silver, the arrow's bisected ends painted alternately red and yellow. "Gerudos are never lost." Rabiyu told him seriously, "Just because you weren't _born_ Gerudo doesn't mean you have to be lost."

"Thank you," Link whispered, looking at the compass. It was one of the nicest gifts he'd ever gotten. Rabiyu ruffled his dyed-red hair affectionately, to his token protest.

"Now pay attention, my lad, and you might learn how to get from the gate to the oasis on your first trip." Link nodded eagerly, pocketing the compass, the instrument a comforting weight on his hip. "Trainees? Move out."

* * *

After perhaps an hour's travel, sand dunes gave way to parched, cracked earth scattered with scrub vegetation, and finally to thick fauna and hard soil, a pool of muddy water shimmering in the middle of the green oasis. Link had paid careful attention to his compass as they hiked.

Rabiyu let the children take off their tack and go skinny-dipping to wash away both the sweat from the glaring sun and the powdery sand that clung to their skin uncomfortably.

After perhaps twenty minutes of play, they returned to shore dripping wet, to pull out canteens of water or tea and eat packed meals of nuts, dried fruit, and sandwiches. The sandwiches were made of pita, cold chicken, cheese, bits of tomato and spread with sour cream. The cooks had prepared the meals for the children in advance, wrapping the portions in cloth napkins and packing the filled cloths in sealed tin boxes to keep the all-invasive sand out.

Rabiyu, Link, and the girls ate happily in the shade of several palm trees and an unripe lemon tree, discussing the latest gossip of the Fortress.

Once they finished eating, Rabiyu resumed the lesson. She plucked a twig from the lemon tree, and snapped it in two, and showed the children the two pieces. Then she snapped off another twig, muttered a few words over it, and let the children try to snap it. The magicked twig would not even bend – it was hard and rigid.

"That was a strengthening charm for wood." Rabiyu explained, taking the twig from Haati. "It's used on our gates, in construction, and other purposes. We don't use it on arrow shafts, as sometimes they need to be snapped quickly in the case of friendly fire or other accidents, but if you need to make arrows in a pinch, you can use the charm on the tip of a stick to make a quick arrow. Granted, it won't work as well as steel heads, but that's magic for you – quick fixes will never work as well as magic that takes time to settle. There's a reason for that – magic is strongest once it settles. Layered spells are even stronger. This principle applies across race lines. It works this way for Hylians, Gorons, Sheikah, Zora, and Gerudo alike."

Next she showed them how to purify impure water, filling her canteen with water from the muddy oasis. She murmured an incantation, speaking clearly for the girls to hear, fingers tracing invisible curves in the air. Finally, she wiped the back of her hand over the mouth of the canteen, palm upturned. When she pulled her hand away from the tin bottle, her palm was full of mud and sand. She wiped her hand off on a verdant bush and passed the bottle around the five students. Link took a cautious sip. The water was lukewarm, but pure. He handed the canteen to Reya to try, who passed the container back to their teacher.

She uttered another incantation, a short one of only three words, at the bottle, and passed it around once more.

"That was one of the most common spells we Gerudo use. It's a cooling spell. As our magic naturally is on the cold side, this magical working is very easy, and simple to use. Now repeat after me…" Rabiyu ran the girls through five repeats of the chant, until they could successfully reproduce the spell on their own canteens. Link looked on glumly, and Reya thoughtfully spelled his water cold as well.

Their teacher showed them how to make a small flame with a little magic and a snap of her fingers. It danced brightly on her index finger for a few seconds before flickering out.

Finally, she finished off her magic display by picking up a smallish rock and making the mica in it flash a rainbow of colors in the shade. Link and the girls admired it, finally allowing Reya to tuck it into her pack after a brief but intense discussion of who would keep it. Link liked sparkly things just as much as the next Gerudo, but lately he'd been trying a new concept his mother had introduced – chivalry. As far as Link could understand it, men were created to take care of women and give them children. Since women gave life, men were to treat a woman's needs as more important than his own. Link was not exactly keen on having to put all girls before his desires, as that meant he had to be chivalrous to _everyone in the Fortress_. Well, except King Ganondorf – who had to be treated politely not just because one was supposed to, but also because the man's presence and dignity _demanded_ it. And anyway, the King had to look after everyone in the Fortress. It was hard, being both Gerudo and a boy. But Link reckoned it was much better than being Hylian.

"If that rock was completely crystal, I could make it glow and give off light." Rabiyu said of the rock she'd charmed, wiping her hands off on her pantaloons. "And if you have volcanic rock, there's a spell that makes it hold heat for a long time. And that's about all I've planned to show you. Everyone have a good drink, refill your canteens if you need to – and use the purifying trick I showed you – and pack up your things. We leave in..." She looked up at the sun, eying its position. "…Ten minutes. Swiftly, children."

The five trainees hurried to obey.

When the ten minutes were up, Rabiyu rose to her feet.

"All right. Girls, you may take the lead and show us the way back." Aru nodded, taking her position in front, Reya and Sooru jostling for second place. Haati scurried behind them obediently after Rabiyu refused to let her walk in last place. Once the girls settled on a group formation, Link and Rabiyu trailed after them, the woman quietly pointing out landmarks for Link to remember.

The return trip took longer with the less-experienced girls leading, perhaps an hour and a half from the Oasis back to the Rear Gate of the Fortress. By the time they returned it was nearly twelve, four hours before noon. Their teacher dismissed the girls, sending them off to do stamina exercises in the evening, when it was cooler out than it was under the hot, afternoon summer sun.

"Come with me Link." Rabiyu said to the boy with a tug on his tunic sleeve. "Time for your own testing." He shrugged.

"All right, Rabiyu." They waved to the girls, who were heading towards the more residential area of the Fortress, and made for the palace, slipping in through one of the many back doors.

Where a Hylian palace was strictly a residence, as opposed to the Castle in the Hyrule Capitol, the Palace in the Gerudo Fortress served as both the royal residence and the administrative center of the small city. Five hundred years ago, when the freshly widowed Gerudo women carved their first homes out of the valley rock, the Fortress had started in what was now the mostly residential area of the Fortress – mostly apartment complexes but for a few compact villas for the well-to-do and old money. The residential area had an ancient stone wall around it – the old limits of the Fortress. The population had boomed two hundred years ago, when Gerudo magic had been refined enough to develop fertility charms and spells to detect where a woman was in her ovulation cycle. It was traditional for a woman to have at least one child and thus maintain the bloodline and general Gerudo population, but the new spells had made it easier to give birth to two daughters with less encounters with Hylian men. The walls of the Fortress had been rebuilt, with a very generous amount of room for the refuge to grow and expand, the walls taller, thicker, and spelled for protection and stability. The palace was almost as old as the original walled-in Fortress, as its construction had began with the coronation of the return of the Gerudo Kings – who had been born four-hundred and fifty-seven years ago – the only male Gerudo of his generation.

Rabiyu led Link through the maze of back corridors designed for those who worked behind-the-scenes – Hylians might call them servants, Gerudos called them custodians, or at the very least, maids.

Through the narrow halls, up a wide sandstone staircase – made of the same gold sandstone as the rest of the palace – down a wide hall with a mosaic-tiled floor and into one of the finer workrooms in the floor of the King's residence. Resting on one of the stone counters was an elaborate device, large and boxy, all iron framework, wood paneling, and colored glass. Cheap, poor quality glass, Link noted, not of Gerudo make.

"What is it?" Link wondered, manfully resisting the urge to give the contraption a good prod. He might break it, after all – for all the thing's size, it looked breakable. "It's really, _really_ ugly."

"That, my boy, is a Hylian magic detector. It will divine what kind of Hylian magic your nature is attuned to."

"Does it need to be so big?" It did take up much of the counter. "Or so ugly?" Rabiyu hastily turned her laughter into a more restrained fit of coughing. Link absently reached up to pound her on the back until she got herself under control.

"Thank you Link. Hylians have a tendency to over-complicate things, even Ferrick Rauros."

"Oh. He's your lover, right?"

"Yeah. More to the point, however - I just need a little blood from you and a few hours to determine what kind of magic you have."

"Hylians have different types of magic? And why blood?"

"Blood is the key to almost every kind of Hylian magic, so you'd best get used to it. As for the different kinds of Hylian magic, that requires a little more explanation. You see, while a Gerudo's power comes from the sun, the Hylian's power comes from the land. All of Hyrule is shot through with the power that keeps the land isolated from the rest of the world. It was Hylians that locked Hyrule away from the world, and its that same power they draw from the land. There are two kinds of magic in the land, light and dark magic. Both must exist to maintain balance, and neither are evil, despite what the Hylians claim about dark magic. Hylians typically only have an affinity for one kind of magic – the rarer magics can only be used by those who can balance light and dark together. Both dark and light magic users' affinities are split even further into different natures. Light users take from what is visible, splitting into the natures of wood, open plain, water, fire, and rock – and pure light, which is what Ferrick uses. Light magic is nature magic, from without. Dark magic comes from within. Dark magic users take from the unseen, through the use of darkness they create illusions, alter the world with alchemy, and use nature manipulation, entropy and origin magic. The only ability forbidden is the art of necromancy, which is heavy, nasty stuff. Most Hylians believe dark magic is evil, even though it is quietly but broadly used. So those are what you might be able to use. This device itself was created through the principles of Hylian alchemy."

"Huh. Neat." Was all Link said, a little overwhelmed by all the information his mentor had provided. Rabiyu reached up and pressed a brass button, causing a little wooden drawer to pop out of the mahogany paneling. She pulled a flat glass circle from the drawer, setting it on the counter and pulling out an ornately carved dagger from a compartment in the device.

"Hold out your left hand, I need to draw a little blood." Link obeyed, and Rabiyu gently sliced a shallow cut across the boy's palm, smearing the blood onto the glass circle. She laid a piece of paper cut to fit the glass circle over the bloody glass, the blood quickly soaking into the golden paper. Then she replaced the circle back into the drawer, but left the wooden tray open. The princess removed two slender vials from the Hylian magic-detecting contraption, one full of a clear lilac-hued liquid, the other containing a small amount of fine, grey powder. She carefully dusted the powder onto the bloody paper, then dribbled the lilac fluid onto the powder, finally covering the mix with a second piece of paper and closing the drawer. She turned a few brass dials, twisted and touched several colored glass controls, and covered the device with a canvas cover. The magical apparatus began to emit a high, musical whine, occasionally interrupted by a sharp squeaking noise.

"As I said. Hylians definitely overcomplicate things." Link nodded, eyes wide.

Rabiyu carefully washed her hands with the ewer and basin at the end of the work counter before anointing Link's cut palm with ointment and then wrapping it tightly with gauze.

"There," She said, looking pleased. "That's you done. We should have a result in five hours. Dinner is at eight. Shall we meet at seven to go over the results?" Link bobbed his head.

"Sure, Rabiyu."

"See you then, squirt." Rabiyu ruffled his hair playfully before shooing him out of the workshop.

Link trotted out of the palace, ready to find Reya and his agemates and find out if there really was treasure behind the waterfall.

* * *

This, everyone, is the end of the golden age.

Reviews are great. I'm humbled by everyone's love of this fic.


	10. Follies

**Chapter Ten: Of Follies

* * *

**

"You shouldn't be doing this." Aru insisted, glaring at Sooru as Link and Reya crunched their way down the gravel path leading down the cliff to the Zora River. "You shouldn't be letting them do it." Sooru just folded her arms smugly. Haati had elected to stay behind and work on her weapons forms. Aru didn't think it would help much – but had to commend the shy girl for her effort, at least.

"What?" Sooru said, "It's not like they don't want to do it. I'm not forcing them." Aru scowled, red eyes hard.

"You dared them." She said, pointing an accusatory finger. "They think they have to, and they wouldn't listen to me. I only came because I thought we were going to swim. You made it a matter of honor for Link – and you know he feels he has to prove himself to us because he's a Hylian. And Reya is practically attached at the hip to him, of course she's watching after him."

"What, you think you know him better than I do? I grew up with him!" Sooru sneered, "I don't know who you think you are, coming in and taking over everything like you did a year ago-"

"Are you off your head? I didn't choose to be put under Rabiyu, it just happened!"

"—A year ago, taking Link away from Haati like you did, you slut. She always tries so hard to impress him and gets nowhere – she's pretty and kind and gentle. You treat him like dirt and he loves you!" Aru's mouth fell open in astonishment.

"He knows I don't – he's not. He's not dirt." She managed, shocked.

"Well I've got your number, Aru. Doubly cursed, you are. Bad enough your sire was a Sheikah, but you had to be rape-get too." Sooru spat at Aru's feet. "That's why you fight so well – you move like those dogs do, like a Sheikah bitch! Your mother was right to throw you away."

Aru's face twisted in fury, and then she reared back and punched Sooru square in the mouth with all the considerable strength of a young woman born to fight. The younger girl staggered backwards, and spat again, blood in her spittle.

"Damn you, Sooru." Aru hissed, Sheikah-red eyes blazing, trembling with fury. "I'm telling. And I'm getting an adult before this gets too out of hand." She threw down her practice weapons and ran back the way the children had come.

"It's not like you're going to get back in time to stop them, oh great prodigy!" Sooru yelled after her, "It's forty-five minutes to the Fortress!"

"Your mother would be ashamed of you, Sooru!" Came the distant, fast-fading reply.

Sooru snorted, and wiped blood off her mouth.

* * *

"So we got behind the waterfall." Reya said, absently kicking her heels against the rock ledge they were perched on.

"Yeah." Link said, grinning at her. "Looks pretty cool, huh?"

"I guess." She allowed, wiping mist off her face. Looking through the massive amounts of clear water tumbling past, sunlight shining through, was indeed an impressive sight. "We should go back now."

"And almost fall into the river again, and be washed all the way to Lake Hylia? No thanks."

"That's a lot of river, Link. Lots of rapids. We'd probably be dead before we reached the lake."

"Thank you for that image, dearest cousin. All the more reason to check the cave out – see if there really is a treasure." Reya rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself, shaking her head at him.

"Bet you two days chores someone's already been here and taken it." She challenged with a smirk.

"You're on." He easily agreed. "Now c'mon, lets see how deep the cave goes." Link hauled himself to his feet on the mist-drenched, slippery rock and gave Reya a hand up. He pulled a small, rectangular crystal out of his trouser's pocket, kissed it absently to activate it and make the crystal glow with a magic-produced light.

The white light reflected off the damp, smooth walls of the tunnel, the noise of their footsteps echoing through the cave increased in volume the further the pair got from the roar of the falls. Reya and Link inched their way around a deep pit carefully. Further on, a soft _drip drip drip_ sounded from a branching passage too narrow to explore. As they walked, the tunnel began to slope downwards. A thin sheet of water ran down the incline, making footing even more treacherous than it had been.

At last, the passage opened into a wide, vaguely round chamber, stalactites and columns dripping down from the ceiling. In the center of the room sat a large wooden chest.

"I told you!" Link said triumphantly, grinning at his cousin, who merely sighed and looked resigned towards two extra days of chores. "Sooru was right, there was treasure."

"Yes, because _everyone_ likes Sooru, Link." Link snorted at that.

"Well I don't." He retorted and strode over to the chest, crouching to examine the lock on the chest. Link shoved both hands into his pockets, searching but coming up empty. "Reya. Do you have your pick set on you?"

"Yeah." The girl said absently, carding her fingers through short, spiky hair she'd had cut to look like her step-mother Dinah's style. Then she frowned thoughtfully, lips drooping. "Why don't you have yours? Rabiyu said we're supposed to have them on us all day." Link shrugged.

"I thought there wouldn't be anything behind the waterfall, so why get the set wet and have to oil it again to keep out rust?" He said, trying to sound reasonable, then added insolently, "And anyway, it's not like we'd have to use them in any part of the Fortress besides the training grounds. We hardly have any locks in the whole Fortress - what's the point of having them when everybody in the city knows how to pick them? Anything that really needs a lock is locked magically."

"That's not the point." Reya replied with a little exasperation. "We're supposed to have them with us. You can't just break rules because they make no sense."

"So what, are you going to tell on me? C'mon, Reya, get over it. Can I borrow your set of picks?"

"No. I'll do it myself. I need the practice, anyway." She nudged him with her foot, and he moved aside with a grumble. Reya pulled out the slim, cloth-wrapped bundle that was her lock pick set, carefully unrolling it and selecting a torsion wrench, its narrow head shaped like an 'L'. She slipped it in, and began her task. Link helped by handing her the tools she requested, first several half-diamond picks, then a hook pick. After perhaps ten minutes of careful, dexterous experimentation, she sat back on her heels with a sigh. "It's no good – the thing is rusted shut." Link helped her repack her toolset and then eyed the locked chest once more.

"I wonder…" He prodded the lock, thinking hard, and brought the light crystal close for a better look at the rusted lock. The boy grinned as he came to a conclusion. "Good for us that its a padlock, I s'pose." Link got up and walked around the room, examining the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

"Now what are you-" She began impatiently.

"Shh." He interrupted, "I'm thinking." At last he selected a fairly thick formation and snapped a large chuck of it off. He snapped the sharp point of the tip off, and flipped it over in his hands so the wider end pointed at the floor. Now suitably equipped, he brought the stalactite around in a wide arc, smashing into the rusty iron padlock. It made a complaining shriek, limestone falling off in chips at the impact. Link struck the lock again. And again. With each hit, rust and stone flakes fell to the floor, until finally, the padlock's shackle gave with a snap, falling to the cave floor. Link kicked the wrecked thing to the side.

Breath held in anticipation, Link and Reya knelt before the chest and as one, they opened the lid. Something large and round was covered by a moldy silk cloth – Link reached in and pulled the silken cover off, tucking it into his pocket.

Underneath the cloth was a yellowed skull.

Link hissed under his breath. Reya's hazel eyes were wide.

"Oh. No." Later, the two children could not remember who said those words, only that they had been spoken, spoken slowly and doomed, and that it was those words that seemed to wake the monstrous thing.

The skull's eyes opened, a glowing blue-white that was bright and cold.

Some invisible force caused the skull to rise until it was at eye-level, where it hovered, bobbing from some kind of strange breeze that could not be felt or seen but was nonetheless there. Its jaw opened, letting loose a shrill, rasping shriek that made the children's hair to stand on end. The cry echoed through the cave, causing the more delicate stalactites to fall and smash to the floor. As the two children cringed from the stony shrapnel, a section of what they had thought was just cave wall moved aside with a rumble.

Three large creatures leaped out of the dark maw of the revealed door, reptilian and each as large as a full grown woman. Two were slender, each carrying a long, thin rapier. The other was massive, thickly and brutishly muscled, its skull covered in silver armor, a long knife clutched in each claw.

Link pushed Reya behind him, trying to push her to the passage through which they'd entered the room. But one of the monsters was too close, and quickly cut off their escape with a few steps and a threatening brandishing of its sword.

"Link!" Reya shouted, shoving him towards the void the lizard creatures had come from. They scrambled up onto the raised floor of the new room, running for a small tunnel small enough for children but not the monsters behind them. It was blocked by several columns and fat stalactites and stalagmites that almost connected. The three lizards shrieked, two shrill and throaty, the larger one a deep bass roar – and chased after them. Link dropped his light stone as he and Reya made for the relative safety of the new, narrower passage. Vision skewed, a disorienting slide into darkness edged in light. With visibility shot, Link tripped right into a slick stalagmite, slipping and toppling over to land flat on his back, his breath rushing out of his lungs in a pained _whuff_.

Used to the darkness, one of the leaner abominations bounded over to his raising its blade. Link heard the whistle of ragged steel through damp air, and rolled away before it could stab him. The thing tried again, and Link squirmed away. A second try caught its blade firmly into a stony column, and would not come out despite urgent tugging from powerful scaly arms. It ducked its head as if to bite the boy, but Link drew his leg (bloodied from scrambling around sharp stone) and kicked the lizard in the head with all his strength. More specifically, with a sandaled heel right in the monster's eye socket. It recoiled with a yell of outrage. As it clawed at its eye, the other two creatures clamored to get around their injured fellow, who blocked the way to the two children. Link seized the chance to crawl to relative safety, where Reya was wedged as far into the narrow fissure as she could manage. He slipped through the slight gap between two large columns, safe for now.

A sort of haze came over Link – he could hear the lizard creatures shrieking and hammering away at the cave formations that were keeping him and Reya safe – but he couldn't quite focus on it. Objectively, he knew he was slipping into shock, as Rabiyu had called it. Numbly, he scooted closer to Reya, who shook her head frantically, eyes wide and pupils dilated in the treacherous light.

"No Link! Don't move!"

Too late – there was a tiny jab of pain on the back of his hand, followed by a sensation of slippery, numbing heat, growing out from the tiny sting site. Link shook his hand in reflex, and something fell into a panel of light. It was three inches long, eight legs and a long segmented tail, pale blue with delicate pincers. A Sandstalker scorpion, and it had stung him. It waved its pincers in agitation before darting back into the shadows. The sensation of dulling warmth spread with each throb of his hand, which pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

"We're hiding in a scorpion's nest." Reya cried, frozen with fright. Link grunted in pain, cradling his hand to his chest, sweat and terror on his face.

"Yeah. I noticed. I guess we can handle monsters but not bugs, huh? Typical." He said, unable to keep himself from giggling nervously. His entire arm was senseless, paralysis spreading from his right shoulder to his chest. Carefully, avoiding the scorpions skittering around in alarm, Reya pushed herself between Link and the lizard creatures still trying to get to them, wrapping herself around her cousin.

It was difficult to measure the passing of time, in the disorienting sprawl of the things visible and the things unseen, light swaying and flickering, while everything else was swallowed by the void. The disturbed scorpions crawled over human feet kept prudently still. Water dripped into Link's hair in perfect minute-long intervals. Reya's breathing came in little frightened pants against the boy's cheek, their grip on each other painfully tight but an anchor nonetheless.

Blue light flickered from the main chamber, the skull they'd found in the chest had somehow made its way to the hidden room. It bobbed and dipped in midair around the three lizards' heads, surrounded by a misty corona of cold blue light. It seemed content to watch the larger creatures' progress.

As the neurotoxins spread, Link slumped more and more against Reya for support. He wasn't sure whether it was good that the paralysis was not affecting his breathing – the monsters were not ten feet away, still relentlessly but mindlessly chipping away at the columns that were sheltering the two children away from the reach of the creatures' blades. Reya and he were going to die, Link realized. He was going to die. Either by venom or by the hands of monsters. Reya might die either way. And it was his fault. He'd taken that dare, to show Sooru up, to prove himself to her. But the adventure he'd sought had turned out to be too much for him to handle, and this would be the end of it.

"I'm sorry Reya." Link slurred, tongue clumsy, all strength fled. His body was limp and beyond his control. Reya didn't seem to hear him. He breathed in deep, resigned, and waited.

There was a terrific crash (Reya flinched under him) – the lizard monsters had broken through the columns. One of the two lean ones crawled into the narrow space and reached a wiry limb out, dragging Reya off of Link, who could only watch numbly, falling limply onto the hard limestone floor without her support.

Blood flew and the room was filled with shrieks of pain. From Reya as her left leg was stripped to the bone. From the second lean monster who'd hung back, as good curved Gerudo steel pierced through its back, through its heart and out of its chest. It twitched, gurgled, and died.

Nabooru surveyed the corpse with distaste, and pulled her blade out of the scaly carcass. Rabiyu leapt into the chamber to do battle with the burly brute of a lizard, twin scimitars ready. The pair faced off, and the glowing skull careened into her chest, light sinking into her skin. She staggered, grace gone, and the huge monster leaned down low to breathe a gout of flame out of its gaping mouth. Her silk slippers caught fire, burning bright, and she rolled out of the way of her opponent's daggers. Nabooru threw something bright at the flying skull, which exploded into bone fragments.

Rabiyu sprang to her feet and staggered, cursing. Her feet were badly burned, but she circled the bigger creature as Nabooru drew the last lean one's attention away from a badly bleeding Reya who was whimpering on the cave floor clutching the remains of her leg. Rabiyu's monster charged her. The princess managed to sidestep out of its path, and it slammed into the cave wall, stunned for only a moment. But that small opening was enough for her – she deftly sliced the tendons on the backs of its legs, dodged a second blast of fire as it turned to face her, and ran the monster through. Dying, it reached for her with its long daggers, and she buried her second sword into it. At last life left its body, slumping over and knocking the princess to the floor. She grimaced, kicking the heavy corpse off her with some effort. Rabiyu winced as she regained her feet, and wiped at the dark blood on her clothes. Across the room Nabooru had killed the last lizard with a bolt of magic that had incinerated the body and charred it to a crisp.

Nabooru scooped up Link's dropped light stone and examined Reya's leg, making a _tsk_ noise with her tongue when she saw the damage. She pulled off her blouse, ripping the linen into bandages with a knife. The Gerudo Queen murmured a cleaning spell over the mutilated leg, which made Reya burst into fresh tears at the pain. Once the wounds were clean Nabooru cast a healing spell, making the blood clot and thick ropey scabs to appear, wrapping the leg with her impromptu bandages.

"You'll need to see a healer once we get back to the Fortress, sweetheart." She said to her niece.

"Link got hurt too," The girl whispered, pointing to the space they'd hid in. "Scorpion sting – a sandstalker." Nabooru's bronze face went quite pale, horror in her warm eyes.

"Din be-damn it," Rabiyu cursed, picking up the light stone. "I'll get him, Nabooru. You watch Reya." Nabooru nodded shakily, suddenly a mother rather than a fighter. That said, Rabiyu crawled into the small fissure. She murmured a short spell, concentrating hard through her pain, and the scorpions calmly returned to their dark holes. She wriggled into the narrow space, grabbing Link's ankle and gently pulling him towards her. She caught him around the waist when he was near enough, dragging him free and frantically checking him over. "Nabooru."

"Yes?"

"His breathing seems fine. Do you know any spells for poison or venom? You know I'm not good with magic beyond the basics."

"No. I don't, or I can't recall. We'd best ride hard, if its so." The Queen said grimly, and Rabiyu nodded, eyes frightened and looking very young.

"Let's get out of here, my lady."

* * *

The next hour was a bit of a blur to Link, when he tried to remember what had happened after the rescue. Rabiyu slung him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, quite a thing when he was more than half her weight and her feet were burned. Together the two women negotiated the long cave passage back to freedom, the light stone bobbing in the air in front of them by means of Nabooru's magic, lighting the way. At the mouth of the cave Nabooru paused to pocket the light stone, regarding the massive torrent of water tumbling down just feet away from the tunnel. Extracting one hand free of Reya, she flapped it at the waterfall, uttering a harsh word of command, and suddenly the cascade moved a little farther away from the base of the cliff, opening a safe path to the riverside. She and Rabiyu carefully picked their way across the slick stones, dropping the spell once back on shore, the Gerudo Queen slick with the sweat of exertion.

"I could never do anything like that." The younger woman commented with a grunt, heaving Link back onto her shoulder, impressed by her former mentor's feat.

"Yes, well, you are a far better warrior than I – so to each their own." Down came reinforcements - who had made their way down the precarious gravel path that led from the canyon cliff to the river's edge – to relieve the two women of their injured burdens.

Adrenaline drained out of Rabiyu, leaving her feeling clean and empty. She allowed one of the women to help her up the path, walking slowly and gingerly.

Reya and Link were each bundled onto a horse, whose riders sent them back to the Fortress at a gallop.

The children were rushed through the Fortress to the infirmary closest to the front gates. There were five infirmaries in the Fortress, one near the industry district, one by the training grounds, another in the palace, one in the mage's building, and the largest in the residential area, a proper hospital. It was to the last one that Link and Reya were taken to.

Reya was carried to the surgery room, while Link was taken to a quiet, dim room and set down on a cot, the linen sheets clean and undyed. He was fed an antidote for scorpion venom, and then a potion the healer informed him was called Snake's Boon – a infusion used to remove toxins from poisoned flesh.

The effects were immediate – he regained sensation in his body, beginning in his stomach, spreading and tingling all the way to his extremities. His cuts were easily cleaned and healed, leaving fresh pink skin. The dehydration was just as easily taken care of. At last the healer deemed him suitably healthy, and gave him a mug of tea spiked with some bitter herb that made his eyelids droop. Warm, comforting darkness awaited, so unlike the cold void of the cave.

Link only had the time to wonder how Reya was doing before sleep claimed his mind.

* * *

1. I originally had Link stung by a Deathstalker scorpion, but changed it to a made-up Sandstalker scorpion, as I doubt numbness is a typical symptom of scorpion stings. The Sandstalker can be found in most desert-areas on the world Hyrule is located on. A sting from this critter will kill most children, the elderly, and the weak/sicker individuals. Link probably would have died about ten hours after getting stung, but they saved him before that.

2. The Sheikah are long-time enemies of the Gerudo. This goes back to when the Gerudo still had males. Back then, at the height of Gerudo civilization, the Sheikah were the raiders and thieves. The Sheikah were a nomadic race, though Kakariko and one other town were rare population centers. There are a few Sheikah ruins throughout Hyrule. When the Hylians conquered the Gerudo, they joined in the battle, becoming fast allies, as 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' They were so efficient and trustworthy (springing from their honor code) that the Sheikah became elite warriors, bodyguards and spies for the Hylian Royalty. How the tables have turned…

3. As I said before in the last chapter, this is the end of the golden age for COTS. For those who are concerned about the plot moving, Ganondorf is due to go evil right around chapter thirteen. I will not be following the OOT timeline exactly, and anyway, the only thing we really know for canon is Link's seven year sleep. There will be Zelda, Epona, Navi and more, just differently from canon.

4. We will get to the nature of Link's magic next chapter.

5. This incident in the cave is going to really change everything for Link. I hope the action scenes were not just gibberish and that everyone can mostly understand what's going on.

6. Is anyone interested in maps of the expanded Hyrule and the layout of the Fortress? If so I will post them on my livejournal and stick a link to it in the next chapter. I have created twenty-four new Hylian towns for the new, massive Hyrule Plains, and nine Hylian provinces to divide up most of Hyrule, complete with basic details on each province's economy and climate, as well as weather patterns for all of Hyrule.


	11. Consequences

A short chapter, by necessity. Again, filler and set-up.

I apologize for taking so long. I refused to post this until chapter 12 was complete, but of course that chapter decided to spiral out of control and inflated itself into a 6,000+ chapter. I'm splitting it into two, before you all chain me to my desk.

I own everything you don't recognize.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Of Consequences

* * *

**

It was the bright, warm sunlight on his face that woke Link. He cracked open one eye, slowly and warily, then the other, letting blurry eyes focus slowly. In the bright light he relaxed, faintly remembering dreams of a dark void that had swallowed him whole, leaving him slowly digested, alive, in the belly of the beast.

This was not his brightly appointed room in his family's apartment, with its wall hangings, stacks of books and thick sleep mat. He was in the Fortress hospital, on a thin mat rolled out on a raised platform, lumpy pillow cushioning his head. The walls and floor were white-washed, probably with a lime solution.

His mother sat in a sturdy but comfortable chair at the bedside, her graceful neck bent over a packet of papers and documents, pen moving carefully. It was probably work – no one had ever talked about the amount of work royalty had to do, but it was done nonetheless.

"Mum," He said, pleased to find his voice was steady, his tongue no longer clumsy from scorpion venom. Her head snapped up, tired smile sliding warm over her lips.

"Hey, sweetheart." Nabooru said, eyes soft. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good."

"How is Reya, Mum?" He asked anxiously, and his mother's smile faded.

"She…" She swallowed, eyes closing for a shuddering moment. "They had to amputate her leg about six inches below her knee."

The realization hit him hard, leaving sick nausea in his gut. For a second he thought he might vomit, and then the feeling passed.

"Mum. I need… I need to be alone right now." He said hoarsely, tears welling up. Nabooru nodded, and left the room, taking her papers with her.

He waited several minutes to make sure he was alone before crying himself sick.

* * *

His mother came back later to take him to see Reya, who was still recovering from blood loss and her surgery. She smiled when she saw him. There was a multitude of gifts from well-wishers on the sturdy bedside table, paper flowers, a beautiful doll, and a brightly colored glass trinket box that Dinah had probably made herself. Deste, Reya's favorite stuffed horse, rested in her arms.

"The doctors say I'll still be able to ride horses, when I'm better and my stump has healed." She said, her faint smile crooked. Link clenched his fists so hard his nails draw blood from his palms.

"It's my fault." He whispered furiously, blinking back more tears. "I never should've taken that dare from Sooru." Sooru had quit training when she's heard what had happened. She hadn't known about the monsters. Too late. Far too late. Reya winced, and tried in a shaky smile.

"I don't blame you Link." She said quietly, "I chose to go too. It's not your fault."

But it was. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

* * *

It had been two weeks since Link took that dare, and Haati was still not sure how everything had fallen apart around her.

Clever Reya was crippled. She would return to the intellectual training when her leg had healed enough, but would never fight again.

Sooru, her best friend, had quit training before she was expelled. No one would trust her for a long time – unaware of the monsters or not, the dare had been dangerous, and had nearly killed one of the King's daughters and the son of the Queen. There was a woman who had offered to apprentice the fallen girl, so Sooru was going to be a mathematician, which was the only field she'd bested the other children at.

Aru was suddenly treating her different, acting too nice. Haati was sure she didn't deserve it.

And Link… Link was the most changed of them all. He didn't smile. He didn't joke. He showed up in the morning with dark circles under his eyes. He began to put more energy into physical training and less in that of the intellectual, though he still did well. Link started staying late at the Gerudo training ground, practicing until Aru ground him into the dirt, and did not complain when she did.

And as for Haati herself, she just kept falling further and further behind her friends. Maybe she should quit training like Sooru, and find an apprenticeship in the arts. Maybe she should give Link a hug the next time she saw him. Maybe she should try to cheer Sooru up. Maybe she could get her mother to smile with approval at her.

Maybe.

It was the maybes that haunted Haati. She never acted on them.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, the sun hot overhead.

"I hear you're avoiding everyone." Rabiyu said, limping up to Link, who was practicing his bare-handed combat forms against a padded target. "Everyone but Aru, for training. And visiting Reya in the hospital, for guilt. I know what you're doing, lad. You're going to drive yourself insane with guilt." Link didn't respond. "I know what you're going through."

"No. Rabiyu, you don't." He said stonily. The woman sighed, tucking a copper braid behind her ear.

"Stop your training. We need to sit down and chat."

"Fine." He stepped away from the target reluctantly, and together the teacher and student walked over to one of the benches for observers, which was shoved up against the fortress wall. Link gestured to the seat, the move gallant but his heart not really in it. Rabiyu sat down carefully, drawing her muscular legs up onto the seat, taking weight off the burnt soles of her feet. Link threw himself onto the bench.

"When I was eight, I had a best friend by the name of Para." Rabiyu began, eyes focused on something in the distance. "We were inseparable, very like you and your cousin. She twisted her ankle, one day. I was supposed to help her up the stairs to her apartment every day after training, but she assured me she could handle the stairs just fine, even though there was no rail. I was hungry that day, so I let her go by herself, and headed to dinner early. I found out the next day she'd fallen down the stairs, not long after I'd left, broken her neck, and died. I didn't take it well. It took me a long time to get over it." Link glanced over at his mentor. Her amber eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I blamed myself for years. It was my fault for leaving Para alone, and not taking care of her like I was told to. But it was also her fault. She shouldn't have sent me away – those stairs were steep, and there was no rail to use for support. It was foolish of her. No one has a monopoly on guilt." She scrubbed calloused hands over her face, composing herself. "So you see, I do know what you're going through. I know you feel shame and guilt. But Link, _nobody died_.

"Reya will never fight again, but she'll be able to walk after a fashion. She'll still be able to ride. She chose to go with you. And Reya is blaming herself, because of how you took her injury, but you might have died if she wasn't there. Aru is blaming herself for not stopping you two when she had the chance, but you didn't listen to her warnings, and things could have gone much, much worse if she hadn't run for help. Haati is blaming herself – of all things - for not being there to stop you, but I doubt you would have listened to her. And Sooru is blaming herself for putting you up to the dare. Her career as a leader is over, but she's shown poor judgment before, she would not have made a good leader in the long run. And she didn't know about the monsters. No one can take the burden of fault alone, except of course the damn women who did not dismantle the traps in the that cave behind the waterfall, a century ago. It was an early precursor to our Gauntlet. We thought they'd disarmed it – but they didn't. They are dead, though, and past our reproach.

"I'm not saying you're free of blame. But you can't say it's all your fault. Did you learn anything from this?"

"Take a weapon with you." Link said carefully, thinking. "Be more cautious. Don't go on adventures."

"Well… I guess." The woman allowed, "Caution is a good thing. Don't be reckless. But a little adventure is good. We shouldn't be scared of everything, but a person needs to be sensible. How about checking with an adult before you try something a little dangerous. You've already done that. Like having me spot you when you were learning back flips, or when you wanted to balance knives on your nose. It was ridiculous, yes, but I watched you so you wouldn't get hurt." The boy looked vaguely pleased.

"Even Aru can't do that."

"What, the dagger on the nose trick? She doesn't like to show off, but she probably could." Rabiyu flapped her hand at Link. "Anyway, back to the point. I got the results back on your magical type. It's a rare one. You're almost completely balanced, just a tad to the side of dark magic. You'll be able to do magic through music."

Link perked at that. Music?

"I can do magic with my ocarina?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes. We'd wondered - me, your mother and my father - about why you were able to play like a virtuoso when you were three. Of course you have talent, but the magic part certainly explains things." The Hylian boy thought this over.

It did explain a lot, about Sariya, and why he sometimes fancied he could hear faint music playing around certain people or places. That was why he could hear a song once and play it back perfectly forever after. It was why he knew exactly which song to play to cheer his mother up, or to soothe his family to sleep in the night. How had he not realized normal children couldn't talk to strange girls tucked leagues away in mysterious, enchanted forests?

"You remember Sariya?" He finally asked his mentor. Rabiyu's eyes were warm with amusement.

"I do. She was your imaginary friend when you were younger."

"She's real."

"Is she now?" She wondered, raising an eyebrow. Link nodded.

"From the Lost Woods. She's Kokiri." A light seemed to turn on in the Gerudo princess's eyes.

"One of the forest-children." She sat back in awe. "From where your mother found you."

"Yeah. My ocarina came from there."

"That's… fascinating, actually. I'll have to tell Ferrick." Her smile turned inward, amber eyes glowing with a happy secret. "I'm going to see him in a week." Link frowned.

"So soon? C'mon, Rabiyu, you saw him two weeks ago. Don't you usually visit Parchen every month or more?"

"Typically," She said, smile widening. "But this time is different. I'll tell you why when I come back, lad. Ferrick should know first."

"Okay." He shrugged. "Can I train again?"

"Go ahead." She shooed him back to the targets, and left the training grounds, slowly.

* * *

"So when were you going to tell me?" Ganondorf asked his daughter, as she braided her hair for the night, a strange Hylian custom she'd picked up from her lover. She looked up from her bed, feet smeared in burn balm and wrapped in linen gauze.

"After I visit Parchen tomorrow." Ganondorf sighed, sitting on the straw mattress beside his favored daughter.

"You were going to make me wait a week while you were in that Hylian town to tell me I'm going to be a grandfather?"

"I'm not going to say them. The words." She said, shaking her head stubbornly. "Even if you know already, Ferrick is going to be the first to hear me say it."

"And why?" The King said sharply, "Since when does a Hylian man need to know about the Gerudo daughters he's sired? When would he even care?"

"He's not like that. We've been seeing each other for four years and --"

"How can you trust he's been true? Most Hylian noblemen have arranged marriages. You might be his mistress, not his lover. He could be married and lying through his teeth." Rabiyu laughed, eyes hard.

"He's a terrible liar. And awkward. He may be nothing but bone, stringy sinew and far too much brain, but he's mine. I know that much."

"Do you love him?" The man asked, golden eyes fierce. Rabiyu held his gaze, saying nothing, but she tilted her head up, response in her eyes.

"You do." Ganondorf said, answering himself. "Does he love you?"

"He's never told me. Not aloud." Rabiyu's tone was wry. "Hylian men don't say such things. They think it's unmanly. And he so desperately wants to be thought a man."

"Unmanly? It's unnatural, denying love." Ganondorf condemned. "When was reason ever more important than the heart, rather than equal to it? Yet another reason to hate the Hylians. I feel sorry for their women."

"I'm going to meet Ferrick tomorrow, Father." Rabiyu finally said firmly, looking her parent in the eyes. "I'm an adult, and it's my decision to make. I suppose you could order me not to but--"

"I won't take that liberty." The king snapped, furious, brow prematurely lined "I have some morals! Go if you feel you must. But take a guard with you - your burns have not healed yet."

"Fine. Goodnight, Father." She inclined her head in submission.

"Goodnight, Rabiyu." He kissed her on the cheek, brusquely, and stormed out of the room. The door closed with a very final click.

* * *

Link dreamt.

_Dark, all black. He couldn't see anything. Tiny insects were crawling over him, their joints went _click click click - _no, not insects they were hands, nothing more than bones, ivory clicking as they clawed at him. He curled up tight in a ball, arms over his head, but the hands peeled his limbs away. They clawed at his lips, and then his mouth was forced open and scorpions crawled down his throat in a wave. He screamed, but they didn't like that so then they_

His eyes opened.

Dark. Not the void he'd dreamed of, not the blackness of the cave never touched by sunlight. The faint darkness of night.

He was awake. Just a dream, for all it had seemed so real.

The combined light of the moons and stars shone through the window. Luna hung fat and full in the sky, reflecting off the sand and stucco. The blue light of egg-shaped Seles was fainter.

Quiet. No clicking. No insects. Just the endless nightly wind and the subtle breathing of his family – his mother and Reya, each in their own room, Aunties Aya and Dinah in their shared room. Link reached for the light stone that had seen him through the ordeal in the cave behind the waterfall. He slept with it now, to chase away dreams of the blackness of the cave.

He stretched, then sat up on the bed roll, folding his blankets back carefully. He padded into the main living room, where a large urn and washing cloth sat in the alcove just off the apartment entrance. Gerudo apartments did not have bathrooms – baths were taken at the Bathing Falls, and privies were communal for each floor. Link stripped off his loose sleep clothes in front of the urn, wetting the washing cloth with water and wiping off the terror-sweat. Clean, he stood shivering in the cold desert night until he was dry. Then he pulled his clothes back on and headed back to bed, taking his light stone with him.

He got comfortable under the covers, and placed the light stone next to his pillow, finally closing his eyes.

Sleep was eager for him that night.

_Not dark for once, but rather, blazing bright, numbness sliding through his veins, making it impossible to move. Blood splattered his face as they killed his family before his eyes, one by one. Mum and Reya and Aya and Dinah and Rabiyu and Aru and Sooru and Haati and everyone he knew, one by one, as he watched helplessly from the burning, sand-swept ground. There was nothing he could do, and he wanted to scream, but nothing came out. And when everyone was gone, they pulled the sun out of the sky and killed it too. And there was darkness once more._

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1. If you thought that chapter ten was wrenching, wait 'til you read the thirteenth.

2. I hope you like Link's magical affinity. We'll explore this more in the next chapter.

3. We've reached 10,700 hits. Wow.

4. The maps and other notes on the geography of Hyrule can be found on my livejournal here: http: / / rinrabble . livejournal. com / 1556 . html Just delete the spaces.

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I like reviews. It's no secret.


	12. Futures

In this chapter we finally leave the Fortress for greater Hyrule. Yay!

I own everything you don't recognize, , by now, is probably most of it.

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**Chapter Twelve: Of Futures**

Early that morning, before dawn, Rabiyu rose to pack for the day-long journey, hobbling around her room gingerly. Absently, she wondered if her feet would ever heal – it had been three weeks since the cave incident, and while not as raw before, they still hurt like the dickens. She often used crutches or walking sticks to get around without putting much weight on her feet, depending on the pain level each day. One of the carpenters in the industry guild had offered to create a 'wheelchair' for the princess, but Rabiyu had turned it down politely. She felt compelled to keep up muscle tone, regardless of the pain, couldn't admit to herself that she might spend the rest of her life crippled.

"Are you ready to go, my lady?" Tanya asked from the doorway. She was to accompany the princess to Parchen, as per the King's orders.

"Yes. Can you help me with my things?" The older woman nodded deferentially, gathering the packed satchel. Rabiyu yawned, then reached for her walking sticks. They made their way out of the palace and saddled up in the palace stables.

Rabiyu and Tanya rode out of the Fortress with little fanfare, waved through the front gate by a sleepy gatekeeper.

Her father did not see them off, as last night he'd locked himself in his office late into the night, working. He'd been doing that more and more lately, seeking solitude in his work. Ganondorf had never had much free time – he'd led his people as best he could, working tirelessly to improve the harsh reality of life spent in the barren wasteland, just barely scraping by. It was the reason why the women loved him so much, why they would do anything to serve him as well as he served them. Some of the previous Kings had lived indulgently, glutting themselves on what little food was in surplus, a different woman in bed every night, taking foolish risks that made their women suffer. Rabiyu's father had once told her that he'd once wished to be a simple farmer, or a gardener, rather than king. He loved working with plants, the feel of good earth in his hands, the vibrancy of tender leaves and flowers, the sturdiness of stalks and trunks. Reality had other ideas – every plant he'd ever worked with had withered before its time. He now left the public gardens to their official custodians, and spent all his energy on diplomacy to the Hylians. It was not going well.

A wasting disease that affected rye had spread throughout much of the eastern Hyrulean Plains. Hylian mages were searching for a cure, and would probably synthesize one within the year. But the year's rye harvest would be poor, the upcoming winter already predicted to be a hard one. The Hylians were too busy maintaining the status quo to expand their territory and protection to a mostly barren land and people.

Rabiyu sighed. Her father was left, metaphorically, to futilely knock on a locked and barred door, while the doorkeeper was away from their post.

* * *

After about a half-hour's ride from the Fortress, the two women reached the massive bridge that covered the span of the great canyon carved by the Zora's River. It was a marvel of Gerudo architecture, and a triumph of mathematical systems (systems now adopted by most Hylian mathematicians) devised by the Gerudo people pre-exile. It required no magic to stay up, relying instead on thick cables woven from ropes of Skulltula silk. The cables were deeply anchored into the red sandstone, the bridge hardly swaying in the brisk wind. The bridge was large, wide enough to allow two fully laden wagons to cross side-by-side. The side rails were wide and sturdy. No one would be falling off this bridge by accident.

Two paths forked off of the road leading to the bridge. One road, deeply rutted by wagon wheels, led to the gentle, rolling part of the valley where most of the Gerudo farming was done, and towards the Grand Cascade. The other headed in the opposite direction, downriver towards the fisheries near the frothing rapids that led to Lake Hylia.

Once across the bridge, the road to Hyrule widened, sinuously winding down steep rock. Browning shrubs grew in high, impossible-to-reach crevices in the sandstone cliffs, hardily resisting the harsh sun. It took a good three hours to reach the flat level of the Plains. There was a different path they could have chosen, which would have taken less time to reach the ground, but it was treacherous, narrow, and prone to minor rockslides – Rabiyu wasn't taking any chances, not in her condition.

She swung her legs as she rode. She'd packed her stirrups in the saddlebags, as she didn't feel like subjecting her burnt feet to them. Instead she let her feet dangle, holding on with the slight pressure of her strong thighs. Rabiyu was a good rider – not a natural like Reya was, but better than most – she'd worked hard to earn her skill at it. She'd made this journey so often she could now let her mind wander, hands easy on the reins since her mare knew the way just as well. Tanya followed close behind, keeping a wary eye open. Rabiyu tried to converse with her guard, but Tanya was not interested in talking, perhaps because of the differences in status. It was a shame, because Rabiyu had been looking forward to traveling with company for once.

Craggy sandstone and gravel slowly turned to parched, cracked earth, which crackled under the two horses' hooves. This was where the Wasteland gave way to Hyrule proper, and the barren land they were crossing marked the boundary between the Gerudo Desert and the steppes of the western Hyrulean Plains. The women stopped at sixteen o'clock for their noonday meal, sitting on a sun-warmed boulder. They'd packed hard cheese, dried fish, some soft rolls, and roasted nuts. They ate neatly, then packed the rest of the food into their saddlebags. The horses were given some feed from the saddlebags, as no grass was available. Finally, the princess and her guard saddled up and continued on.

It took four hours to cross the cracked soil, and then they were in the Western Province of Hyrule, which was better known as Drought Country.

Drought Country was actually more barren than the Gerudo Valley, as it was without a reliable water source – there were no offshoots of the Zora River nearby, and very little rain fell in the region. Farming crops were very scarce, just a little barley and wheat grown here, and most farms largely consisted of flourishing rabbit farms. The rabbits were harvested for their pelts, meat, and bones –mages who practiced origin or entropy magic bought the bones specifically to use in weather prediction spells or for fertility charms. Many farmers also had herds of sheep or goats, as the sandy soil was just fertile enough to support the hardy grasses that blanketed the steppes. The true money, however, was in flatland mining. Sandstone was abundant. Deposits of silicate minerals such as quartz, tourmaline, garnet, topaz, quartzite, mica, and various feldspars stippled the arid province. Most food had to be imported by the neighboring Lakeland Province, which didn't actually contain Lake Hylia - merely bordered it – as the massive lake was situated in the Province of Lake Hylia.

As one of the poorer provinces, Drought Country had only two sizable cities: Parchen and Mudwater. Both cities were originally mining towns, and located on major Plains trade routes. Mudwater was the larger of the two. Its economy depended on sandstone exports, as stone for building was always in demand, while the gemstones' demand ebbed and flowed with the prosperity of the economy. Parchen had flourished through its garnet mines, but continued to succeed chiefly by being the town nearest the Gerudo territory. It was the unofficial meeting place for the brief trysts between Gerudo women and Hylian men. Futhermore, Parchen bought Gerudo goods, transporting them to Hylian markets around the country and selling them for a higher price.

Parchen was the city where Rabiyu and Ferrick typically reunited. She'd traveled with her father to the Capital, on a diplomatic venture which had turned out to be fruitless, two years ago. Ferrick had shown her around the city when they both had the time during those two weeks in the Castle Town.

About a year ago, he and his master the Hylian Lord Ambassador had relocated to the southern city of Crimen, located in Lakeland Province, close to the Drought Country border. The Ambassador, one Lord Ares of Crimen, was Lord and ruler of the city. Ferrick loved Crimen, for its warm weather, tropical flora and fauna, and close proximity to Parchen. While the Capital was two and a half weeks of hard travel away from Parchen, Crimen was about five days to the arid border town.

Thanks to the leylines that ran throughout all of Hyrule, it was possible for communication to move far faster than travel could. Magic truly was a wondrous thing, for all its complications. Rabiyu shuddered to think of life without leyline communication, especially if Ferrick still lived in the Capital. It would take four weeks to contact Ferrick, and just as long for him to get to Parchen. She couldn't meet him halfway – travel on the Plains meant bandits, particularly on the trade routes. It was dangerous for even Hylian men, let alone a single Gerudo woman. Her father would never allow it, and Rabiyu couldn't blame him. So Parchen it was, the one city that was safe for Gerudo women.

Rabiyu and Tanya had been traveling for about nine hours total by the time Parchen came into view on the horizon. They had taken another rest several hours after noon. The buildings of the city were fairly short and squat, but the Plains were quite flat – the two women could see for miles in every direction. Despite the visibility of the city, it still took another hour to reach its gates. It wasn't even close to dusk, but the two Gerudos were exhausted. They made their way through the streets of Parchen, to the inn they would stay at. Rabiyu had sent a message across the leylines to her and Ferrick's favored inn the day before, so all that was needed was a little drop of blood to confirm her identity. The innkeeper's men took their horses and things, and the two women were then escorted to most expensive accommodations, one with a separate room for servants. Such accommodations were intended for nobility or the wealthy. Parchen did not typically receive such high-status guests, but in Hyrule, every inn of quality was required to have at least one set of rooms for those of the upper classes.

Tanya went into her room, and Rabiyu laid down on the wide bed in the master bedroom of her lodgings. She fell asleep before she could even wipe the dust and sweat off her travel-greased face, or get beneath the covers.

* * *

Rabiyu woke to the groan of water running through pipes. It was a sound she'd only heard outside of the Fortress. In Hyrule proper, bathing was not communal. So baths were taken in bathrooms. The Fortress didn't even have those – bathing was done at the Bathing Falls, waste was passed in the privies located on each floor of one's residence, and faces were washed and teeth cleaned in the privacy of one's home in front of a wash stand with water provided by an ewer. It was a strange difference but the sound was oddly comforting. She sighed, stretched, and fell asleep again.

Hands gently shook her awake. She exhaled noisily through her nose.

"Mnn. Go 'way." The owner of those hands snickered. It was a very male laugh. Ferrick.

"Come on, dear. It's twelve o' clock, so we have four hours until midnight. You need some food. And a bath. Badly." Rabiyu made a derisive snort. His hands prevented her from rolling away and going back to sleep. She grunted, thwarted.

"Rabiyu…" He said pleadingly.

"Fine, 'm up." Rabiyu grumbled, levering herself up into sitting upright. She rubbed blearily at her eyes, then grimaced as her dirty hands merely rubbed grit further in. After a moment she gave up, and looked up at her lover.

Ferrick had changed quite a bit since he'd first met her at seventeen years old, gangling and thin. Since then, he'd shot up another six inches, and filled out considerably after picking up the sword and traveling by horse so often. He would never be as good at fighting as his Gerudo lover, but few were. Now twenty-one, his shoulders had broadened, and his body had packed on muscle, though it would always look stringy on him rather than sculpted. Ferrick was doomed to remain a string-bean for the rest of his life. Rabiyu didn't mind.

He was just as dirty as she was, perhaps more. They were both covered in dust, but he also had grass in his medium brown hair, and some kind of gory glop caked on beneath the dirt.

"What in the world did you fall into, to get so filthy?" She wondered aloud, and Ferrick grinned.

"I ran across a nest of Peahats on the way from Crimen, and I decided to exterminate them so they would stop bothering the local farmers. I just forgot that if you kill them with magic, they explode."

"I see." He shrugged sheepishly and sat on the bed next to her.

"I'd kiss you hello, but I don't think either of us would enjoy the taste of dirt and Peahat guts. I've run us a bath. Tanya already took hers."

"That sounds wonderful." Rabiyu sighed, already looking forward to being clean.

"Tanya told me she's with you because you injured your feet. I know you were hurt weeks ago, and how, from the letter you sent over the leylines, but even badly burned feet should heal completely with a good healer. What is going on?" The princess hitched one shoulder up in a half-shrug, leaning against her lover.

"Apparently Dinofols breathe magic flame. It's like a combination of poison and fire. I don't know if the skin will ever heal." She fiddled with a lock of hair, a nervous habit she normally tried to repress.

"I guess I'll … just have to carry you everywhere then!" And with that he unceremoniously scooped her up into his arms, bridal-style. She laughed, and put up a good fight, just for show. Injured feet or not, she was just as compactly muscular as Ferrick remembered. Even though he had a good foot of height on her, it was only through his hard work getting in shape that made it possible to lift her with any kind of ease.

He carried her, protesting, into the bathroom, where a large copper bathtub awaited, full of steaming water, and set her down on the stool that sat in front of a lady's dressing table and mirror.

Together they removed their clothes. Ferrick left his trousers on, and helped Rabiyu into the tub. She sighed, sinking into the very hot water, her dark skin turning bright red in response to the heat. He dragged the stool over to the tub and sat on it. After removing much of the grime with a rough cloth, he got to work with a clean cloth and some rosemary-scented soap. He was especially tender with her feet, then lathered up his hands to wash her hair. Ferrick let his hands massage her scalp, then moved on to her neck and shoulders, easing away the tension from the day's journey. When he was done, she ducked under the water to rinse her hair, then climbed out of the tub to let him have a turn before the water got cold. He stripped the rest of his clothes off and got in. Rabiyu got started by picking grass out of his hair, then moved on to soap up a second rough cloth, as the gore was caked on quite thickly. They did this for each other every time they met, washing the grime of travelling away, rebuilding intimacy, silently. Thoughts and words could be sent easily over the leylines for a price. But this, this was not so easily transmitted - the sheer physicality of touch and skin. They drained the tub once they were both clean and toweled off. Ferrick insisted on carrying his lover back to the bed, and pulled extra gauze bandages and burn balm out of Rabiyu's travel bags. He gently smeared the soothing balm on, then wrapped her feet with the gauze.

"Are you up for dinner or should we ask the innkeeper to send up food?" Ferrick asked, pulling on clean clothes. Rabiyu considered, as she dressed herself.

"Can we do that? Get dinner sent up, I mean. They've never given us that option before."

"Not then, yes, but we're using the most expensive room in the building. They do things like that for the upper class. And we are, after all, nobility."

"I suppose dinner here would be nice, especially since you wrapped up my feet already."

Ferrick agreed, and after consulting Tanya, left the room to talk with the master of the inn. He returned a long while later, loaded down with a basket of food. He set it down on a low table in the living room of the finely appointed set of rooms they'd rented.

On top of the food was a rolled up tablecloth, which Rabiyu spread on the low table. The rich indigo fabric was soft from use, dyed blue with woad, a plant native to the steppes. Out of the basket came a couple of apples and pears, imported from the orchards of the Lakeland Province. There was a variety of hard and soft cheeses, mostly of local sheep and goat's cheese. A small loaf of crusty bread was provided, already sliced and wrapped in a warm, moist cloth to keep the bread from drying out. A modest pat of sweet herb butter came with the bread. There were fine china plates to eat off of, a butter knife for the butter, and a sharper knife to cut the cheese and fruit. Finally, there was a carafe of watered-down red wine and two wine glasses, fine ones by the opinion of the locals, but nowhere near the quality of those produced by Gerudo glass-smiths. There was a small clay mug for Tanya to drink out of, almost as an afterthought.

Ferrick called Tanya out of her room, and she prepared a plate for herself. He tried to make conversation with the older woman, but she refused to talk to him much, filled the small cup with wine herself (refusing the wine glass Ferrick offered her), and asked for Rabiyu's permission to leave, which Rabiyu gave her. Tanya retreated to her quarters. Rabiyu shook her head.

"I'm sorry about her behavior." She said quietly, pouring herself a small glass of weak wine.

"It's all right." Ferrick said off-handedly, cutting slices of pear and hard cheese. "Was it because I'm Hylian, or is it just her way?"

"The last one." Rabiyu replied, spreading butter on bread. "She acts normally around who she considers normal people. I suppose she doesn't know what to do with outsiders. Not Hylians, or men. And she isn't comfortable around nobles either."

"You don't have many of those in the Fortress, though." He pointed out.

"No. There's just the King, the Queen, the heir, and the King's daughters. And the daughters don't pass the noble blood to their own children. She says she knows her place."

"As Hylian nobility , I suppose I should approve. But I don't. In my family lands at Rosethorn, we have a soldier by the name of Hollan Harris. He always speaks his mind, and my uncle, who rules our lands, would prefer to have him cast out, but the Harris clan has served our family since the founding of Rosethorn, and Hollan is the last of his family. I've always received the best advice from him, a man with no education." Ferrick's smile turned soft. "After I met you, I asked him what to do. And he said to try, rather than marry some delicate Hylian flower who wilts easily. He also said I needed someone bold enough to handle me." Rabiyu smiled, propping her feet on an empty section of the table.

"I think I like this Hollan of yours. But who says I'm not delicate, hm?"

"I know better than to answer that." Ferrick leaned back with a grin. She chuckled.

"Wise man. Where did you learn that tact of yours?"

"Fending off the court women my mother wants me to marry."

"Why don't you just choose one?" She said it half-serious, but Ferrick smirked, mischief in his hazel eyes.

"I'm an ambitious man, that's why. Only a princess will do. Princess Zelda is too young, as is the Zora Princess Ruto. But the Gerudo Princess is about my age. She has a pleasant temperament, moves well, and has a refined mind. Of course," he said, pouring himself a glass of wine, "She has other fine qualities as well, but I won't go into those." He leaned over and kissed her right on her pouting mouth. She laughed into his mouth. "Come on, dear. The cheese is delicious."

They fed each other with their fingers, the traditional Gerudo custom among lovers and married couples. Between them both, they demolished most of the food, leaving only a little wine in the bottle. Ferrick helped his lover into the bathroom, where they both cleaned their teeth, and then they adjourned to the bedroom.

They pulled on nightwear – unnecessary in the desert, where the sand and rock radiated the heat soaked up during the day, but it got cold on autumn nights when one lived on the barren expanse of the steppe. Ferrick and Rabiyu snuggled together under the covers, and sleep deeply.

* * *

Since Rabiyu had left, Link had thought deeply about his newly discovered gift of magic through music.

Reya still awoke some nights, unable to sleep when wracked with the phantom-pain of her lost limb. Perhaps he could magic away her pain with a song? What about tiredness? Could he get Aru to go all day practicing down in the training grounds without a break?

Aru agreed to let him experiment for a day, and sure enough, it worked. When she felt tired, she walked over to where Link was sitting. He played the traditional dance songs, lively tunes that made feet tap and heads nod to the beat. As he played he tried to push his own energy and lack of tiredness into the music and through it, into Aru. Each time he played for her when she tired, and it was nearing dinnertime when Aru made him stop, claiming she had a terrible headache. Link agreed readily – whatever magic he had used had drained him quite a bit. He ate ravenously at supper.

A few nights later, Reya woke their family up, whimpering in pain, and sweaty from nightmares. Link asked his mother if he could play her back to sleep, and Nabooru approved. Reya was eager to get back to sleep, so Link fished his ocarina out of his day things, and blew a few notes to test if any sand had gotten in it. He settled on the edge of her sleeping mat, and began to play a lullaby.

He played the sweet, short song his mother had always sung him before bed, when they had both been little. Link concentrated on soothing thoughts as the song fluttered out of the instrument, the lyrics running through his head as he played.

_Wind blows,_

_Shutters closed._

_Inside we're safe,_

_Inside we sleep._

_Sun down,_

_All 'round._

_Inside we're tired,_

_Inside we dream._

_Eyes shut tight,_

_We say goodnight._

_Until morning dawn_

_We sleep,_

_Goodnight!_

Link finished the melody with a warble, and looked at Reya. Her pretty face was slack in sleep, breathing slow and deep. His accomplished smile cracked into a yawn. Just playing the song had made him sleepy as well. He left his sleeping cousin for his own welcoming nest of blankets.

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1. If you thought chapter 10 was wrenching, just wait 'til 13.

2. A clarification of the two categories of Hylian magic – there is dark magic, and light. Neither is morally right or wrong, but as light magic is more common, dark magic is considered not as good. Light magic draws magic from without, from the land around. Dark magic comes from within. It is this secretive nature that makes light types wary of dark types. Link's magic, curiously, uses energy from within and without, and it is this dichotomy that makes musical magic very rare indeed.

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Reviews are roasted and served to my family - I gloat over each one.


	13. Catalyst

Warning: here be plot.

Original concept and names taken from Zelda. The other bits are mine.

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Chapter Thirteen: Of Catalysts

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The first thing Rabiyu noticed as she woke was the nausea, roiling and urgent. She leapt to her feet and hobbled into the bathroom, where she vomited into the toilet. She coughed and gagged over the bowl, then slumped against it. The sour, acidic smell stung her nose, and she retched again. Ferrick's warm hands rubbed her back as she subsided, hands that were dexterous but not as strong or calloused as her own.

Once the weak shakiness left her limbs, she flushed the toilet and sat on the seat cover. Ferrick handed her a glass of water, which she drank gratefully. They moved into the sitting room, on a plush couch.

"You're pregnant, aren't you." Ferrick said without explanation.

"I am." She replied quietly. He swallowed audibly, eyes distant.

"She's mine?" He said faintly, voice almost a squeak. Rabiyu just smiled, and nodded. All the air in his lungs left in one unsteady exhalation, his hand going to his eyes. "I need… to think about this a bit before we can talk about the future. But I am happy. About this." Ferrick stood, and turned to his lover. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Rabiyu sighed, then smiled just as quickly. She supposed she couldn't ask for more than this. "I would. But first could you open the curtains? I'd like some sun on my face." Ferrick did so, letting the morning sunshine spill into the room. She closed her eyes as he left, the light warming her skin.

Rabiyu was dozing in the sun when Ferrick returned with a servant and food a half-hour later. Breakfast was spiced barley porridge, fruit juice, some kind of herbal tea, scrambled eggs, and mutton sausages. Together the two men arranged the hot plates on the table, and then the servant boy left the two guests to their meal. Ferrick and Rabiyu talked of everything and nothing as they fed each other, this time using utensils rather than fingers. At last they were finished, leaving no room for silence. Rabiyu opened her mouth to speak, but Ferrick beat her to it.

"I've been thinking about marrying you for some time now." He said quietly. She closed her mouth. She'd been aware of his feelings. His honest face never could hide anything from her. "I know it's not typical. I know you can't leave the Fortress for long, as you're to be Queen when your father passes. I never expected you to be a proper Hylian wife anyway – you're far too independent than that. I'm the seventh son of a seventh son – there will be no land or much money for our daughter when she inherits, but for what I earn myself. I'd hoped for more time to bring my parents around to seeing my side of things, and to propose it formally to my Lord the Hylian Ambassador. But we do the best with what's given to us, and I'm happy, Rabiyu, I really am." Rabiyu smiled, and it was like the dawn on a winter's day.

"You and me, Ferrick. We'll do well together, like we always do." She touched his cheek, and he grinned a little mistily.

"So that's yes?" She laughed, touching her forehead to his.

"Yes. You won't be King of the Gerudos or anything like that."

"They'll never know what they were missing." He joked, pulling away but taking her hand in his own. "No. I'll settle for consort and prize husband. What do you think your father will say?"

"I don't know. He's stressed, and tired from begging the Hylian scum for mercy." Her smile was wry, softening the cruelty in her words. "And I think he's finally realized I'm not his little girl any longer. I'm out of his control now, with my own life to lead."

"He never was one for losing control. But I think our marriage would actually do the Gerudo some good, politically, at least. I may not be a influential man, but my family name is one of the oldest in nobility. Pairing Gerudo and Hylian nobility together might satisfy the more conservative in court. Why don't we ask him? I'd like his blessing, at least. I'll never get my own parents' acceptance. I don't think they understand how serious I am about you."

"Well they will soon, when you run away with me!" Rabiyu laughed, and he shook his head, smiling wryly.

"They always acted like if they pushed enough eligible girls at me I'd settle down with one of them, when --"

"—When all you wanted was to write your letters to me? Yes, I remember. You're lucky I like you, or your poetry would have sent me running for the desert."

"It was rather awful, looking back on it." He agreed readily, eyes shining with love and humor. "I'm glad I stopped, it wasn't like I was enjoying writing those. I'm not one for metered rhyme."

"Well, neither am I." She said serenely, "Aren't you lucky you have me?"

"Dearling," He said, "I count my blessings every day."

* * *

Rabiyu and Ferrick talked much of the day away about their plans for the future, before segueing into a discussion of the new gold mine just being dug in the northern Province of Arryn and what it would do for the region's economy. They planned to leave Parchen in two days. The next day was spent visiting their favorite spots in Parchen, a city they'd come to know quite well during four years of visits.

The trouble came when Ferrick left Rabiyu at a small outdoor restaurant to run a several errands. It was noon, and she enjoyed the sun on her skin and the cool autumn breeze, a plate of minted lamb dumplings sitting by her elbow, and a mug of spiced tea warming her hands.

A large man slipped into the chair just across the small table. His forehead was high, his features striking, with dark hair and eyes.

"Hey, chickie." He crooned, grinning. "So when do you want it?" He gestured at his groin, none too discreetly.

"What?" She said sharply, snapping out of her daydreams. Her amber eyes narrowed as she surveyed the man before her. "I don't think so."

"Don't be coy." The man tried a winning smile on to cover his displeasure. "It doesn't suit you. You're all alone, a Gerudo woman in Parchen, waiting around in public. Everyone knows what that means."

Oh. She'd always known Parchen was the preferred ground for trysts between Gerudo women and Hylian men, strangers all, but in her personal experience it had always represented a committed relationship to her. She'd never had any other man besides Ferrick, and preferred it that way. It wasn't this man's fault – her situation was a bit of an anomaly, though he could have been a little less blatant. Then again, maybe some women preferred just cutting straight to the sex, rather than fooling around with pretty words and flirtations.

So she took a deep breath and kept this in mind.

"I'm sorry. That is what it usually means. But you see, I've already selected my bedmate for the night. He's away running some errands right now, but he should be back soon."

"I see." His tone was bleak, face and ears going red – whether with anger or embarrassment she couldn't tell. She took pity on him, this man who was perhaps seven or so years older than her.

"Did you travel far to get here?" He blinked at her in confusion. "You're wearing hose under a tunic." She clarified, "Men in Drought Country wear breeches and bare shins. Also, your tunic is crimson, of a particular shade that only comes from cochineal-based dyes, which means you're probably from the east. Rainfall Province is my guess."

"You're close." The man said, surprised, anger forgotten. "Province of Imally. I'm from near of Briarsedge." Rabiyu did the calculations in her head.

"That's about sixty leagues away." She said thoughtfully, "You've come a long way."

"That's right." He agreed. "Five day's journey."

"Why are you here? I can't imagine it's for the women alone." The man looked at her, considering.

"No," He said slowly, "That's just a bonus. I belong to a group of soldiers-for-hire, and we have… a job in… Mudwater. We… left early to get here and enjoy ourselves for a few days." Rabiyu frowned. He was obviously lying, but she knew better than to ask him what the job entailed. Most mercenaries were hired under magical contract and forbidden to speak the details of their job unless special provision were made in the contract.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rabiyu saw Ferrick approaching in the distance.

"Well, I hope your assignment goes well." She said calmly. "Here's my man right now." She nodded her head at her lover's direction, and the man turned to look.

"You chose him over me?" He said incredulously, "That skinny little bit of nothing?" Rabiyu shrugged.

"I like him, and that's all there is to it." The man's pretty mouth twisted.

"I suppose there's no accounting for taste." He said, somewhat peeved.

"I suppose so." Ferrick weaved his way through the tables in the open-air restaurant and stopped in front of them. The man was sitting in his chair.

"Hullo." Ferrick said, doing his best to look calm, hand rising to his ear clip. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm not sure, dear." Rabiyu said smoothly, "We had a bit of a misunderstanding is all. Well! It was nice meeting you, Master…uh…" She looked to the man in query. His face had gone white when Ferrick went for his ear clip. Now he blinked.

"It's Roderik. Roderik Lombarsson. Nice meeting you, Miss. I… I think I need to go now." He got up quickly and left, obviously shaken. Ferrick sighed, and settled into the vacated chair.

"Now what was that about, Rabiyu?" He wondered. Unknown to him, Roderik Lombarsson heard his words as he left. The older man's face went even paler when he heard Rabiyu's name, and he fled the scene as quickly as he could.

Rabiyu kicked Ferrick's shin with the side of her foot, avoiding her burnt soles.

"What were you doing?!" She hissed, leaning over the small table. "He wasn't doing anything wrong except propositioning me, and you go for the ear clip." Rabiyu was speaking off the small ear clips most Hylians used to suppress their magic. All adults knew how to control their magic, but the majority chose to wear a suppressant rather than try to stay in control all the time. Removing an ear clip in tense situations was regarded as a threat. "Did you want to announce to the world that you specialize in magic, and you're good enough to use it in combat? Well?!"

"You're pregnant, and you looked distinctly uncomfortable." Ferrick said, setting his mouth in a firm line. "I know you can look after yourself normally, but you're injured, and you have to think of more than yourself right now."

"All he wanted was sex, Ferrick, and he backed off when I told him I already had a lover. Is this some kind of hormone-driven man thing? Because I have no sympathy for such things, and we've never had this problem before."

"That would probably be because you think of me as a very culturally ignorant Gerudo woman with no chest to speak of and extra equipment below." Rabiyu gaped at him.

"I… I do not!" She protested, and her fiancé held up his hand.

"Rabiyu, he had at least five weapons on him."

"He did not, or I would've seen them."

"They were magically concealed, and three knives had other kinds of blade-spells on them. He was an assassin, Rabiyu. And a good one, judging by his fine clothing." Rabiyu slapped the table with fingers spread, a standard Gerudo gesture to change the subject or go back to a previous topic.

"How could you tell?" She demanded, "If they're supposed to be concealed, then how could you detect them?" Ferrick sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'm a pure Light type. It's rare, but the more I train my magic, the more I can see the presence of spells. I haven't let anyone know. If they did? Well. My family would lock me away rather than let me run away with you. They'd chain me up and force me to reproduce with some girl with strong magic."

"Why would they do that? Isn't it just a rare type of magic?" Asked Rabiyu, never one for magic beyond the basics.

"To explain will require a story." Ferrick said slowly, "One that probably should not be spoken in public. Why don't we head back once you're finished eating?" Rabiyu looked down at her plate, then crammed the last lamb dumpling in her mouth, chewing thoroughly. When she had swallowed the mouthful down, she reached for her walking stick, which leaned against her chair.

"Let's go back to the room." She said, and her lover helped her to her feet. She made a gesture, and Tanya melted out of the background to stand at her mistress's side. They walked slowly through the streets of Parchen to their lodgings.

The heart of Parchen had originally been simple living quarters for the miners working in the local garnet mines. At first there had merely been the mine and the barracks, but slowly, the miners sent for their families to move into the settlement, and proper houses began to be built. As the population increased, so did the demand for various services, such as grocers, butchers, clerks and so on, drawing in merchants from Mudwater and other settlements in Drought Country. Now a bustling city, Parchen had grown around the residential area, until the mine which had started in the center of town, now stood on the northernmost edge of the settlement. The streets were narrow and winding, but Rabiyu and Ferrick knew their way around from many previous visits, and Tanya followed them through the city.

"So what's this all about?" Rabiyu asked when they had entered their rooms. Tanya took the opportunity to disappear into her room. The couple arranged themselves on the sofa.

"Do you remember that old legend of why Hyrule is isolated from the rest of the world?" Rabiyu frowned thoughtfully.

"Hyrule was once part of a greater world, a planet called Vanity. Hyrule was one of many countries on the main continent. Over the ages, the various countries began to war with each other, looking to expand their territories and might. A neighboring country looked to conquer Hyrule, so the people of Hyrule called out and prayed to the Goddesses to save them. The three Goddesses answered, and together with the unified peoples of early Hyrule, did a great work of magic and removed Hyrule from the rest of the world. Now the people of Vanity cannot cross our borders." She recited slowly, remembering her own education as a child. Ferrick nodded.

"Exactly. That work of magic is why Hyrule is criss-crossed with leylines. Six temples were built at the conjunctions of major leylines, to continue to generate the power required to maintain our isolation. One representative from each race was chosen to serve the temples, along with their followers. These representatives were called Sages. They were in charge of keeping the temples running and pure, and their souls were bound to their temple, so they could maintain their temples even in death. The Hylian Sage was named Rauru. That's where my family gets our surname – Rauros. He was an incredibly powerful Light mage. But no one in our family has been born with pure light magic in any form of strength. Until me."

"And they'd want you to breed many powerful children with pure light magic, to carry on the line." She said, eyes wide in realization.

"Yes. But I'd rather marry you and have daughters than carry on the family gift."

"So many things… Why can't our lives be simple?" Rabiyu mused, leaning against her lover.

"I have no answer for you. Shall we begin the engagement ceremony?" He asked, stroking her hair.

"Yes, I'm ready."

A Hylian engagement ritual was typically a public thing, but it could be preformed by just the couple, if one of the two was skilled in magic. Fortunately, that was the case.

Ferrick invoked the names of the three Goddesses, asking for happiness, commitment, fertility, and health. He drew a knife, and cut his finger, smearing the blood on her forehead, over her heart, and across her lower belly. Then he instructed Rabiyu to do the same to him. Finally, he let a drop of his blood fall into her open mouth, then consumed a bead of her own blood. He wiped off the blade, and sheathed it.

"And that's it." Ferrick told her, "Magically, we are married. Legally, we are not. Tradition holds that we would live in separate housing and not have intercourse until a year passed, but that is for virgins, which we are not." Rabiyu grinned at that.

"What do you say we celebrate our marriage, then?" She said coyly, and Ferrick smiled back.

"Why Mistress Rauros, I think that is a splendid idea." He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. For once, she went without protest.

* * *

"So describe her to us, Roderik. One more time." The leader of their gang said, pale eyes glittering. Roderik nodded, wiping sweaty hands on his tunic.

"She's average height. Gerudo, of course. Dark skin, copper hair up in braids, gold eyes. Plain, not pretty. She is travelling with two companions. Very muscular, walks with a pronounced limp."

"Good," the other man said, "It'll make her easier to kill." Roderik went quite white.

"You said we would not be killing anymore, Arrun!" He protested. "We were to kidnap her for ransom!" Arrun snorted.

"What, lost your nerve? The money is too good to pass up. Kill her and any witnesses. They should be returning to the Gerudo city soon. That part of the country is very isolated. We'll get them then." Roderik swallowed thickly. He hated killing, but what could one do? His only skill was fighting, and there was no call for enlisting soldiers anymore, not in these days of peace. Still… he felt strangely reluctant to kill this woman. Yes, she'd turned him down, but so did most women, and at least she had done it nicely. As his leader looked at him expectantly, he knew what he had to do.

"Fine," Roderik said off-handedly, "One last time. Bitch deserves it anyway," He added for verisimilitude, "Turned me down for a skinny little wretch. You should have told me we were killing her earlier – I would've killed her after I had my way with her." Arrun chuckled, approving.

"That's the spirit. One last time, and we'll have enough money to buy ourselves places in the army, war or none."

"Are Wolfe or Heinrich still watching her?" He wondered.

"Yes. She should be leaving tomorrow."

"Good. I'm going to find a women for the night, and some dinner. Should I bring some back?" Arrun Finglas smiled, teeth sharp.

"No. Enjoy yourself. We have hard work to do tomorrow." Roderik nodded.

"Understood. Til then, Arrun." He stood up and left, and did not mention that one of their target's companions was trained in combat magic. He'd seen the way that boy had relaxed as he went for his clip.

Now, to find a restaurant that served minted lamb. He was deathly allergic to the aromatic herb. Mint would keep him out of action for at least three days, and their killing contract would expire before then. Despite the years together, he felt no real kinship with his fellows any longer. Heinrich had convinced him more than a decade ago to join the band rather than take up a craft and earn a living honestly – and then immediately ceased any pretenses of friendship with Roderik once he'd bound himself to the band. Wolfe was always borrowing money and never returning it. Arrun frightened Roderik, with his love of killing and money.

No. Let the other men go at their own peril.

A fully trained mage!

Roderik was simple, not stupid.

* * *

Dawn came late that morning, the sun's light stolen by a blanket of grey clouds that filled the sky. In other parts of the country, this would be a herald of rain. But in Drought Country, it simply denied what little warmth the autumnal sun could have offered.

The small party of three - Ferrick, Rabiyu and Tanya – had packed the night before, so all they had to do was eat breakfast, pack for the day's meals, and ready the horses.

The married couple rode side by side, discussing the merits of different baby names. Eventually they narrowed their choices to names that sounded both Hylian and Gerudo in nature.

They were well on their way to the Fortress, when Ferrick stopped the two women. Parchen had been out of sight for hours.

"There are three men on horseback, following us." He said urgently, "They're magically concealed, but I can see them." Rabiyu cursed.

"We'll lose them easily once we reach the hill path." She said decisively. "We'll take the harder trail."

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"I am. Unless they're close enough for your magic to reach?"

"I'm afraid not." Ferrick's voice was apologetic. Rabiyu sighed, stressed.

"Then we'll have to run for it. The valley hills are not a half-league away." Her companions nodded, and kicked their horses into a canter, then a gallop. A quick glance backward told Ferrick that their pursuers had followed their suit, and were slowly gaining on them. He, Rabiyu, and Tanya had selected their horses specifically for long-distance travel, while it was likely that the mercenaries behind them had chosen faster horses for their purposes.

The ground started to become steeper and uneven. Ten minutes later there was a shout from Tanya. Her horse had flung a shoe on the craggy rock and gravel.

"Go!" She yelled, "Leave me here!" Rabiyu wheeled her horse around and rode back to her bodyguard.

"No, we will not. Ferrick, to me. We'll fight the bastards." Her new husband drew his mare up next to her.

"Stay on your horse, Rabiyu. Don't forget your feet."

"I won't."

"Did either of you pack bows?" Rabiyu shook her head, and he swore.

"Then we'll have to fight, one-on-one. You'll have to get them to stay still – I'm not that good at combat magic."

"Fine. Tanya, are you ready?"

"Yes, my lady."

Anxiously, they watched the horizon where Ferrick said the attackers would be. Fifty yards away the men dropped the concealment spell, charging the trio. Rabiyu and Tanya held their swords calmly. Blood was already painted on Ferrick's palms, ready to use for deadly spells. One of the assassins drew his bow, firing a volley of arrows. Ferrick hadn't thought to put up an arrow shield spell, and caught off guard, Tanya took an arrow to the shoulder. Another arrow whistled past Ferrick's head, another struck Rabiyu's horse in the next. It reared, and Rabiyu shouted, clinging to the horse's back as it bucked.

And then the attackers were on them. Tanya and Ferrick clashed with the men, Tanya, having ripped out the arrow, wielding her scimitar left-handed. A jolt of magic from Ferrick sent a man off his horse to topple to the ground, twitching as he died. Tanya beheaded another. Together the bodyguard and scholar attacked the last man. Tanya harried him with her sword, getting him still enough to let Ferrick hit him with the same spell that had killed the first man. The assassin didn't die easily. A crazed look on his face, he swung wildly, slashing open Ferrick's cheek. Tanya skewered him with her blade, and mercenary finally died. The men's horses fled the scene, the beheaded man's body still slumped over his horse's back.

Ferrick turned to look at Rabiyu, wiping sweat from his forehead, then froze, staring.

"Rabiyu!" He screamed.

She lay crumpled on the ground, her neck bent at an impossible angle. With no stirrups attached to her horse, it had thrown her, and she'd been dashed against the loose rock.

He slid off his mare, and cradled her body to him, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. Her warmth faded rapidly.

She was dead.

She couldn't be. He'd just married her! What of the baby? What about the Gerudos, whom she was to lead one day? This couldn't be happening. They'd worked so hard for so long, and finally everything was theirs, everything. The future had been theirs, hardships no obstacle for happiness. But now this.

Ferrick could feel his mouth, shaping the words 'No, no, no,' over and over, disconnected from his body but painfully aware of reality.

She was dead.

* * *

1. Since most Hylians wear an ear clip to suppress their magic, ear clips vary in appearance. The more wealthy one is, the more ornate the clip will be. All ear clips are worn on the lower part of the ear between the lobe and ear tip. Most people are wary of those who go without a clip, as they are highly skilled in magic and thus dangerous.

2. Since her creation, Rabiyu was meant to die. She was merely a pawn, to effect more important characters, and drive the plot. While I was writing chapter three, I did not plan to have her mentor Link or his friends. I did not plan to have her fall in love. She was merely a tool. But as Link, Ganondorf, and Ferrick loved her, so the readers needed to love her too. She needed to be good, but unique. And after a while, she became a person in her own right, not just a character to be written. She stopped being what I needed her to be and merely became herself. It hurt so much to kill her, but there was no way to change the plot and let her live. The story would be weaker, so I couldn't be weak and save her.

3. Rest in peace, Rabiyu.

* * *

I really like reviews. Let me know what you think.


	14. Of Fools, Or, This is the End

Y'know what? I'm sick of writing this story. I have eight books planned for an original series and I'm writing fanfic? No longer. But I'll be kind and summarize what I had planned for the rest of COTS. I promised I would finish, but I guess it was a promise I couldn't keep. Sorry everybody, but I'm moving on.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Of Fools

* * *

**

With Rabiyu gone, Ganondorf swore revenge on the Hylian people. He began to formulate a curse-born disease meant to only affect the Hylian people. Evil began to emanate off his twisted person as he slowly fell into madness. Nabooru could only watch as her husband's morality diminished.

Somehow Link found out, and was horrified. He swore to stop the King of the Gerudos, and ran away in the night, taking only his weapons, ocarina, a map of Hyrule, and some provisions. The horse he stole. It was a pretty mare, which he named Epona. He'd been raised to steal from others. He never thought he'd be stealing from his own people! But things had changed. Ganondorf had forgotten something very important – the crops the Hylian people grew were what fed the Gerudos. With no one to steal from, the Gerudo would die after the Hylians did.

Link fled to Hyrule Field. He stopped overnight in Lon Lon Ranch. The young girl who lived there was named Malon. A pretty girl, she won his heart instantly. Her sweet, breathy voice was a perfect counterpoint to his ocarina playing. They swore to marry once Link saved Hyrule from Ganondorf. The ugly man who was stablehand at the ranch, Ingo, was furious. He'd planned on marrying Malon himself, so the ownership of the Ranch would be passed on to him. Malon was ecstatic, finding the hero of her dreams. Link was handsome, exotic, strong, talented, and so funny! Best of all, her father liked the boy too.

They parted reluctantly.

Link made his way to Hyrule Castle Town, where he had an audience with the princess once he snuck past the unwary guards. No wonder the Gerudo were so contemptuous of Hylian men! Couldn't even keep their eyes open during noon duty.

Zelda too was attracted to Link. He shared the bad news with her – of Ganondorf's deadly plague. She revealed she had seen Link's coming in prophetic dreams, a bright light coming out of a dark cloud over the desert.

Only a wish from the mythical Triforce could stop Ganondorf's plot. Zelda revealed the locations of the keys to the Triforce. She already held the Ocarina of Time. Link had to collect the three Spiritual Stones from the Gorons on Death Mountain, the Zoras in the Zora's Fountain, and the Kokiri living in the Lost Woods. It would be difficult, but worth the battle.

The princess supplied her hero richly, ordering armor to fit the preteen. A much over-burdened Link left the fair city capital of Hyrule, staggering out of the gates under the weight of all the things he brought with him.

He visited Malon on the way to the Woods, and left the next day, leaving much of his unnecessary supplies behind, for Malon's father to sell off at the next market. Talon claimed he'd never seen such a young boy come up with a bride-price so quickly.

As was appropriate, Link got lost in the Woods almost as soon as he took a step into the dark cover of the trees. Saria was overjoyed to finally meet the Hylian boy she'd befriended via ocarina so long ago. The Kokiri were wary at first, but grew to like Link. Finally, they allowed Link to meet the Great Deku Tree, who was dying of boredom. Link swiftly fixed that with a few merry tunes he'd learned from Malon. Suitably cheered, the massive living tree gifted the boy with the Kokiri's Emerald in gratitude after Link explained the reason for journeying into the depths of the Forest. The Kokiri held a party to send Link on his way.

Again, Link stayed at the Lon Lon Ranch overnight. This time he brought gifts of cacao and coffee beans, and of rare jungle herbs and flowers.

(The Goron part I planned to make up on the fly. Oh well.)

Link sustained many bruises and cuts from the sharp stone and swift water of the source water of Zora's River. The Zora were a haughty people, eating nothing but kelp and lakeweed. They allowed Link to cook his fish on the dry ground in an abandoned cave. Ruto was missing, but Link quickly found her remains stuck in the mighty whale Jabu-Jabu's teeth. He carefully buried the Zora's Sapphire nearby, before carrying her corpse to her people. They were grief-struck, and invited Link to join in the ceremonies to honor their princess. He obeyed, unhappily. It reminded him of Rabiyu's death not too long ago, and he felt guilty about the theft of the Spiritual Stone of Water. But he had a mission he had to fulfill. A million lives depended on it. Once Link felt it was appropriate to leave, he did, after reclaiming the Zora's Sapphire from its burying place.

His trip to Malon this time came laden with precious creamy pearls, they would look stunning against her fair skin and red hair. Talon joked that soon they would have enough money to buy a kingdom of their own, making Malon a princess herself. Link smiled, he'd grown up around redheaded women. Malon suited him just fine.

At last, Link had finished his adventuring. He entered the capital city once more, and snuck to the princess once more. There were more observant guards this time, but nothing a few bribes couldn't buy. Zelda was aglow when she heard the good news. Together they went to the Temple of Time, and opened the Door of Time with the four keys.

But there was a problem. They had forgotten the Master Sword, yet another barrier to the Triforce. Selflessly, Link offered to try and pull it out. He braced himself to pull it out the pedestal, and nearly fell over when it came out easily. A blue light took him, and he vanished. Zelda went on to make a wish on the Triforce. The sacred artifact obeyed her pure heart and soul, and killed Ganondorf, sending him to a better place before he could unleash death on the population of Hylian Hyrule, and thus sin.

Link disappeared.

Zelda was heartbroken. She'd had hoped to marry Link rather than a spoiled noble's brat.

Malon was grief-strucken and bereft with Link's disappearance. After a while, she moved on with her life.

Epilogue:

Seven years later, a young blonde man approached Lon Lon Ranch. A grown Malon looks up from her chores, tending Link's old mare Epona. She sees the stranger walking over, and her face lights up in recognition.

End Child of the Sun, roll credits.

* * *

That was what I had planned. I hope you liked my ideas. I'm sorry for letting everyone down.

Bye,

And Kudos,

Rin.

* * *

* * *

Ha! April Fool's! I have a little more staying power than that. Quit after all the notes and time I've spent on this, when it can easily become an original with some thorough tweaks? I don't think so.

Actually, the COTS and WOTS plot is going to be nothing like what I've written, and far less clichéd. It was actually a lot of fun to write. I did it in about an hour and a half.

Did I get you? Sorry if anyone freaked out a little too much. I've seen this done before. I wouldn't have done this if my usual update weren't on Thursday, which turned out to be on April Fool's this year. So I thought, why not?

The real chapter will be posted on Friday or Saturday, depending on how many reviews this gets. We are two reviews away from 150! If I get five reviews by Friday, I will post it then. I am a greedy, evil person.

On a more serious level, the next chapter is titled 'Of Grief.'

Kudos!

Rin.


	15. Grief

Okay, so I got plenty of reviews, so I'm posting early. Just to reiterate, the last chapter was a fake one for April Fool's. The plot in that spoof is nothing like the one I really planned – nothing from Of Fools will be included in the real story. I just put clichés and wrongness to make people's teeth grind, while still writing in my usual style to fool everyone.

Okay, so joke's over. Let's get serious again. When we last left our characters, Rabiyu had died…

My bits are mine. I have a lot of bits.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Of Grief

* * *

**

Rabiyu was entombed five days later. Ferrick felt it should rain, that the sky should weep with him, and all the women who knew her, the women who wept with him. But it did not rain. It never rained in the desert, so the sun simply bore down hard on the black-clad congregation. Black was the Gerudo's mourning color. Red was the Hylian's. So Ferrick wore a combination of both. The dark clothes soaked up the heat of the autumnal sun. For the Gerudo, mourning colors were not meant to be practical.

As Rabiyu was once their future queen, the entire population, all fifteen hundred Gerudos were present for the funeral, standing in the shifting sand outside of the Desert Colossus.

Five days ago. It felt like a lifetime. He'd been ecstatic. And terrified. Ferrick had gone from a devoted lover to a husband and future father in a few days. And just as quickly, a widower. He hadn't even got to meet his daughter before she was gone.

Queen Nabooru stood quietly, dark skin pale and eyes bloodshot. Rabiyu's students were inconsolable. The Hylian child, Link, the boy who'd been raised in secret by the Queen, made no effort to control his sobs. Only his mother's comforting arm kept him upright.

Ganondorf stood rigid in the midst of the weeping women. His eyes were dry, his face still. It was a frightening placidity, the kind of absolute stillness that meant he was anything but calm underneath.

A week to mourn at the Fortress, the King had said. You loved her purely, I won't deny that. For that I'll give you a week, and then I never want to see you again.

Ferrick couldn't blame him. Suddenly he understood what it was like for the king. Their daughters dead, the woman who was the mother of their child and their lover, gone for good. He worried the Gerudo marriage ring the Queen's sister had made him, twisting it around his finger. It was white gold wire closely wrapped around his forefinger up to the first knuckle, adorned with a small moonstone like the one Rabiyu had worn on her forehead. There was no way to take it off without ruining it. Typically, Gerudo women made their wife's ring themselves, but that was not possible in Ferrick's case.

Tears dripped down his face unnoticed, and soaked into his collar. As someone who had been close to Rabiyu, he was allowed to follow the priestesses carrying the open funeral litter into the temple, through red sandstone corridors floored with fine white sand, to the Royal catacombs. The Gerudo Queens and Kings were laid out on flat pedestals in the combs, bodies time-preserved, seemingly sleeping. Rabiyu had been preserved in the same way, her broken neck straightened. Here she would rest, for eternity. The priestesses laid the crown-princess onto her pedestal, laying the ceremonial sword and thresh in her hands, arms crossed over chest. She'd been dressed in silk batik, in her favored colors of white, blue and gold. Earrings of snowflake obsidian studded the round shells of her ears. She lay there, eyes closed and mouth faintly smiling. Ferrick wanted nothing more than to get on that pedestal, curl up with her in his arms, and sleep, never to wake.

Prayers and blessings were said, calling on Din to deliver their Princess to the afterlife quickly, to make a place for her at their table, where wine and fruit was plentiful, and no one ever went hungry.

Praise was spoken quietly, of her kindness, her unusual maturity, and her wisdom. Ferrick remained quiet as the others who had loved Rabiyu spoke. Exceptions had been made for him to even enter the Desert Colossus, let alone speak of the beloved dead. He would not be allowed to tell of her strength, of her dry humor, of her temper, or her insecurity with herself. At last a final prayer was said, and a small skylight was opened over her pedestal, letting a beam of sunlight spill onto her face. Now Rabiyu would never be locked away from the sun.

Slowly, everyone trailed out of the Desert Colossus. The King stood on the steps of the temple, speaking of his loss to the massive crowd of his people, voice carrying over the sands. The man's voice was calm, so very calm. Ferrick shivered, and let himself be lost in the crowd.

* * *

Ferrick Rauros left the Fortress two days after the funeral. Ganondorf watched him go, high on the Fortress wall. Nabooru stood quietly beside him.

"Do you know, Nabooru, what that young man promised me?" He said slowly, eyes on the Hylian's disappearing figure. "He promised to do everything in his power to make our territory a province of Hyrule." Ganondorf chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a diplomatic nightmare for those pompous elves. Three Hylians killing a defenseless, pregnant Gerudo Princess. Even the most conservative noble will admit that Hyrule will have to make some kind of amends to us. And I think he will succeed, that boy. I should have sent more guards with her. I should have locked her in the Fortress and made her lover come to her. Three assassins. If that boy hadn't killed them, we would have never known what had happened to her. They would have killed Tanya, and left them to rot on those cursed steppes, to be devoured by jackals and the guay. Din above!" He swore, clenching his fist and bringing it down on the stone retaining wall. "Haven't we suffered enough already?"

"You believe it was Tabiya who hired the assassins?" Nabooru asked, eyes hard.

"Yes. Apparently the warning four years ago was not enough. I'll see her in traitor's green, kneeling on Vengeance Rock as soon as I can."

"Do you really think she is to blame? I believe it was fairly clear that it was a Hylian plot. What if she is innocent?" Ganondorf smiled slowly and toothily.

"Do you really think anyone will care, after plotting to kill Rabiyu and I not four years ago?"

"They should." Nabooru said firmly. Her husband shrugged.

"Many things should be. Few are. Alas, we do not live in an ideal world. Her ambition to be Queen might have been thwarted, but her daughters were next in line for the throne after Rabiyu. I will disown them both – a traitorous mother is reason enough."

"Then who will be heir?" She wondered, and her husband and lord grinned sharply.

"Who else but the one Gerudo Rabiyu loved most? You have no idea."

"Of what?"

"How much I want to wipe those Hylians off the face of Vanity, to be done with them once and for all. I would love to raze Parchen to the ground, so I might never see it again. Just…" He gestured, "Gone. But an attack on Hyrule would be foolish. Those cursed men would jump at the chance to kill us all. So I must wait. Until power has shifted to my side. Until what I suspect to be true is verified. And then…? I will strike, like a viper does. Strike quickly at the very moment when they least expect it." Nabooru's mouth dropped open in shock.

"You can't… you can't seriously be speaking of declaring war on the Hylians?!"

"Not war, Nabooru. Not war. Rather, a coup."

"And if you fail? You will damn us all."

"When have you ever known me to fail, my dear? Aside from gardening and changing an elf's mind?" He eyed the sun, then turned away. "It is later than I thought. I will be gone two days. Tell everyone not to be frightened. And don't let anyone come after me."

"Gan?" She wanted to know, using her pet-name for him. "What is going on?"

"You'll see." Was his enigmatic reply as he left.

* * *

Within hours of the King's departure, loud explosions began to emit from the desert. A high-pitched whine sang constantly in everyone's ears, wavering but never fading, putting the entire Fortress on edge. The explosions were infrequent, and sometimes there were long pauses between blasts.

Once it was dark, the Fortress's inhabitants noticed great flashes of light accompanying the explosions, leading them to surmise it was their King causing the strange effects, hurling spells out in the desert in his grief. After a while, late in the night the magic stopped, finally letting the Gerudo rest peacefully.

The noises started up again at dawn. Smoke drifted into the Fortress on the desert wind. Ganondorf's subjects did their best not to be frightened, as per his commands. More present was awe – that their lord should be so powerful, so skilled in magic, and such a master of himself that he could delay his anger and grief for an entire week before letting it all out in a safe location.

The cacophony continued long into the night, and after a while, the women of the Fortress went on with their duties.

The third day came and went. The Gerudo began to worry.

The fourth day changed everything.

* * *

Link didn't know what had compelled him to do this crazy thing. He knew it was foolhardy, but here he was, doing exactly that. He walked silently down the road to the Desert Gate in the rear of the Fortress. As the boy walked, he played a slow, furtive melody on his ocarina. The tune was called 'Thief Sneaks By', and Link did his best to project secrecy and invisibility. So far it was working – no one had even glanced his way.

A guard stood at the small gate, alert. Link hid himself from view, just around the corner. He quickly switched to a lullaby, the one that went 'Low, low, sweet sings the cold night, outside the window, on the wind…' The woman at the gate yawned, then sat down on her stool. Soon she leaned against the bricks of the wall, put her head down, and slept deeply. Link watched her for a few minutes to make sure she wasn't going to wake up as he sneaked out. Rather than steal the key on her belt, and risk waking the gatekeeper, he played a song by the name of 'Quick, Quick, Lock and Pick.' It was a silly children's song, about breaking locks and stealing. He played it forcefully, making the high notes tinny and shrill. The gate swung open on its own, and he slipped through the narrow opening it provided. A second round of the lock-picking song closed and locked the gate behind him, leaving no trace of his mischief. With the sun rising in the west, there would be no shadows to rest in. Link checked his pack to make sure he was suitably equipped for travel in the desert. His turban was wrapped properly, to keep the sun from cooking his head, his clothes pale to reflect the light away. He had a day's worth of food in his bag, along with plenty of water. He put away his ocarina and replaced it with his compass.

Shouldering his pack, he struck out into the desert, heading for the sound of explosions.

* * *

It took two hours to reach the creator of the noises that had caused such a massive uproar in the Fortress. The Gerudo King seemed to be taking a break from his tantrum – he stood in the midst of a jagged sea of glass, some of it still molten, broad shoulders heaving with every panting breath he took.

Glass crunched under Link's sandaled feet as he approached, and the man whirled to face him. As he registered which this child was, his expression turned thunderous.

"Idiot boy!" He roared, furious, "I told no one to follow me! You could have been killed." Link ducked his head, ashamed. He gathered his courage, what little he had, and met his King's amber eyes.

"I don't mind." He confessed, "I deserve it. Rabiyu is dead because of me."

"…And how do you qualify for that, young man?" The Gerudo King sneered. The boy gulped.

"Rabiyu burned her feet when she saved Reya 'n me. The stirrups hurt her feet so she didn't use them. She fell off her horse 'cause she didn't use stirrups. So I killed her. Because I was stupid." That said, he shuffled his feet in the sand and glass gravel on the ground, waiting for a verdict. Ganondorf eyed him thoughtfully, lips pursed.

"You are correct in saying that you had a hand in my daughter's death, but not all." He said slowly. "So how do you plan to make it up to me and your people?" Link hesitated.

"I'll do… anything."

"Anything?" Link nodded, blue eyes unusually grave for a ten year old.

"Yeah."

"Would you serve the Gerudo, until your death?" The boy nodded quietly. "Would you go hungry so a girl might eat? Would you work all day and night to make things better for your people, for little thanks in return?"

"I would. Sir." The man's calculating gaze unnerved the boy.

"Then I will take you under my wing. You will learn what I teach you. You will obey me, with no questions but those that further your education. What will you do for me, now that Rabiyu cannot do it for me?"

"Anything." Link said decisively. Ganondorf nodded, with a pleased quirk to his broad lips.

"Then you are of use to me. There will be things you can do that no Gerudo girl or woman can, because you are of Hylian blood. It will not be easy. But you will find that you will do more than you could expect, when your women depend on your every move."

"Yes, sire." Ganondorf touched the top of Link's turban gently, pushing the child to his knees.

"Then swear to me, Link, your obedience and allegiance. Unwavering. Unyielding."

So Link knelt, and swore upon his blood and soul, to serve his King, until it came time to rule the throne after Ganondorf's life ended. The magic and relentless sun made their tanned skin sweat heavily, soaking into their fine clothing.

"And it is done," The King said gravely. "You are bound to me. Now come, you are a musician. Play a requiem for me."

Link pulled his ocarina out, and began the traditional, slow song for mourning. When Ganondorf recognized the tune, he sang along, his voice cracked with grief.

'_I grieve for you  
You leave me.  
It's so hard to move on.  
Still loving what's gone.  
They say life carries on.  
Carries on, and on, _

_And on, and on.'_

Link swayed where he stood, lost in music. He played song after song, until his fingers and lips cramped, until the sun dipped low in the east, until all feeling washed free of him and his King, leaving them empty and washed clean. Until they were numb.

With red, puffy eyes and voice hoarse from song and grief, the two males walked back to the Fortress, way lit by the setting sun.

* * *

Things changed for Link after that. Some of the more conservative women were wary of putting a Hylian lad on the Gerudo throne – but Ganondorf soothed them with promising to put Link through the Women's Ordeal and then the King's Ordeal when he was of age. This mollified the skeptics – the magic of the ordeal spells was unalterable and sacred. Link would have to prove himself just as every ruler had before him, and would have to marry a girl sired by Ganondorf to continue the line of Queens.

A few progressives among the women viewed the boy as a hero – he'd braved the desert and the King's magic to bring their lord and ruler back to them, releasing him from his grief.

Bound together by oath, Ganondorf and Link began to spend much of their time together. The man took Rabiyu's place as Link's mentor, using the time he'd once spent with his daughter with the boy instead. He began to teach Link how to lead, how to be diplomatic. He set Link to learning much of various Hylian cultures and history, as well as that of the Sheikah, Gorons, and Zora.

Ganondorf was a hard master, far more demanding than Rabiyu had ever been. There was little time for play. Link was up before sunrise to train with his lord, personally. There was an hour to eat breakfast, and then he was to practice in the training yards on his own. Nabooru had taken Aru and Reya under her tutelage, as Haati had elected to apprentice herself to a mosaic artist. Aru still practiced often with Link, though as time went on, he was getting dumped on his rear less. He was free to train after breakfast, but not to socialize or play – and Ganondorf always knew when Link had wasted time, somehow. He typically took a bath before lunch. After lunch, Link reported in to his lord for structured study – history, manners, mathematics and high culture. Sometimes Link worked with a musician the King had selected, learning songs, increasing his repertoire, and learning to write his own music. He would study these intellectual subjects until dinnertime, which he would spend with his family. Afterwards, he would spend his nights reading whatever piece of literature he had been assigned, which he had to be prepared to discuss the next day. He often fell asleep reading late into the night. It was a grueling pace for a boy of ten years old. Ganondorf did not make concessions for age. It forced Link to grow up quickly, and every time he made the slightest complaint, Ganondorf reminded him of his oath to the King – he'd promised _anything_. And that meant giving everything.

Childhood was over. It was time to grow up.

* * *

Tabiyu was taken before the Gerudo court of law, one month after Rabiyu's entombment. After one fatal run-in with a truth spell, she was found guilty, of conspiracy to kill the King and his heir, as well as murder, and treason. She was sentenced to death by beheading. Her two daughters were no longer eligible for the throne.

Strangely, Ganondorf kept himself separate from the whole sordid affair, as best he could.

"I must." He told Nabooru when she asked, "If I had my way, I would torture her, demean her, strip her of all privileges of class, then cut her tongue out and sell her to the Sheikah as a slave. I think I show remarkable restraint. It would be unseemly, besides, and a poor example for Link, and every girl that lives in the Fortress. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to see how your son is doing in his studies." He left a speechless Queen behind him.

Not a week later, Tabiya was quietly executed, dressed in green, traitor's colors amongst the Gerudo. Ganondorf watched from a distance, his face lit with a fierce and visceral pleasure.

* * *

A year after his daughter's death, Ganondorf was called to Hyrule Castle Town to sign new legislature that would make the territory the Gerudo controlled a Province of Hyrule. In return, the Gerudo were to cease all raids or thefts against the Hylian people. It's creation had been orchestrated by a young man by the name of Ferrick Rauros.

It was called the Rabiyu Accord.

* * *

1. And that, my dears, is why Rabiyu existed. She has served her purpose well, I think.

2. Yes, Ganondorf is going evil, but really, that depends on a person's perspective. He's not evil to the Gerudo, but to others? We shall see.

3. Ganondorf uses the phrase 'wipe them off the face of Vanity.' Vanity is the planet Hyrule is on, just as America is on Earth. In the US, we would say 'off the face of the earth.' Ganondorf does not, as he lives on Vanity.

4. For some reason, several people thought Ferrick was going to die, which is… intriguing. No, I'm not done with him yet. He hasn't outlived his use. I have plans for him. Poor Ferrick!

5. The lyrics from the mourning song comes from Peter Gabriel's very affecting 'I Grieve'. The other songs are purely of my own fancy.

6. Here marks the end of part one. We are perhaps a third or halfway through the story. Wow! Chapter Fifteen will be a short interlude between the two parts. I have about thirty chapters planned in all. The plot should be moving quickly after this. There needed to be a lot of set-up for the second half, and for COTS's sequel, Warrior of the Sun, which is completely planned out for about thirteen chapters which may or may not be doubled. We've reached 150 reviews and nearly 13,000 hits! How cool!

7. Um. In two weeks I will take down the April Fool's chapter. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about the true plot of this story. Also, its glib tone sort of ruins the sad connection between 'Of Catalysts' and 'Of Grief', as well as the flow between chapters. The fake plot for Of Fools was written to deliberately be nothing like my real plot. The true pairing for this story is in the summary, if you've forgotten. Let me know if I should keep the faux-chapter up.

* * *

And always, please review. Your opinions matter, and I will do my best to answer your questions. It actually helps me write my story.


	16. An Interlude

Okay, so late chapter is late. Chapter 16 snowballed into monster and will need to be split. Yet another mega-chapter. *Sigh* Oh yes, and I'm taking a break from writing to slog through a backlog of schoolwork. But this is not, I repeat, not me giving up.

Anyway, my stuff is mine. Maybe I should say this story is loosely based on OOT? That seems pretty accurate.

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* * *

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**Chapter Fifteen: An Interlude, or A Discussion of Deities**

* * *

"Enough for the day." Nayru knocked over her chess king with a pale hand. "I'm tired of winning." Farore shook her head, quiet anger in almond-shaped jade eyes.

"As you always do." Nayru laughed at the cool remark, tossing pale blonde hair and straightening a flowing blue gown. Her fellow Goddess was more practically attired, in a simple green dress, sleeves cut away to reveal wiry, golden-skinned arms.

"Where is Din? I haven't seen her in a year." Nayru asked airily, and Farore sighed, carefully placing the fine ebony and ivory chess pieces into their proper drawers in the chess-table.

"She is arranging things for her part of the game. Things have become more delicate than she anticipated." The green-haired woman smiled, thinking of Din, with her dark black skin, and her fierce temper. Nayru got up and almost floated over to a plush divan, she was so light on her feet, selecting a fine comb from an ornate table, and began to comb out her long hair.

"Why the smile? Did she not steal one of your pawns?" Farore stood up and helped herself to some wine from a decanter, sipping slowly.

"One needs to be flexible about such things." She said patiently, "Link may very well come back to my control. If not, I have chosen a new champion to serve instead."

"Really? Who?"

"A boy by the name of Ferrick Keen."

"Ferrick? Not my Ferrick Rauros, dear. He's mine. Off limits." Nayru said, blue-purple eyes intent.

"No, not your Light mage." Farore said absently, going to the window and looking out. Outside their beautiful, unearthly dwelling the sky was bright silver, rippling with opalescent rainbow lights. When they did not walk Hyrule in mortal disguise, the three Goddesses lived in the Sacred Realm observing and playing games with the people who worshiped them. Dully, Farore longed for cornflower skies, white sand and teal ocean. But no. That was Port Bluewater, half a world away, and thousands of years ago. Before she and her 'sisters' led a thousand people to the safety of Hyrule, far from the wars that were devouring the planet. Before the Mad God who'd created the world had made the three powerful woman-mages Goddesses themselves to rule Hyrule. But he'd played a trick on the three, and the Hylians, Sheikah and Gerudo, each the favored race of one of the Triad, had warred with each other since the holy three had left their followers to dwell in the Sacred Realm.

It wasn't always good to be a God, Farore thought. When Din was in one of her tempers, what she might do was terrifying. Nayru had always coveted intelligence and knowledge, but she'd turned arrogant and prideful. Now that the Goddess of Wisdom, (Wisdom, hah!) could scry anything in Hyrule, she'd lost the observant nature that had made her magnificent in the beginning. Now much of the wisdom she dispensed was far from advisable. As for Farore, well, it was hard to be courageous when one was immortal and wielded powers beyond mortal ken. She was lonely here, stuck listening to Nayru's schemes and typical elvish racism, and watching Din drift away on a tide of rage and plans for revenge.

"Good," Nayru was saying, "He's mine again, now that that Gerudo wench is dead. He'd almost gone to Din's side." Farore closed her eyes, painfully.

"How can you say that? He's just been widowed."

"Ha! You think I'd have let him ruin his glorious future and run away with one of Din's whores? No, I have plans for him. It was all too easy to remove that wench from the situation."

"You took a direct part in it?"

"Yes. It seems money can buy anything, these days."

The green-haired woman huffed in disgust.

"That's disgusting. I can't believe you actually--"

"What? Did my part to play the game? You are just as guilty as I." Farore sighed, and changed the topic.

"Well I have plans too. Ferrick is a common Hylian name, besides. My new champion, Ferrick Keen, is soldier-bred. He's only a few years older than Link of the Gerudos, so he will fit my timeline nicely." Nayru scrunched her fine-boned nose as she mentally searched for knowledge about one young Ferrick Keen. Her doe-like eyes flew open in surprise.

"You want a rape-gotten runt who's been raised by polygamists? And ugly to boot." She added. Farore bit her lip and kept her anger quiet. She had to remember that elves were born with superiority complexes. Nayru couldn't help it – racism was in her blood, Goddess or not. "You did well with your first choice – that Link. Smart, handsome (or he will be), strong, and magically gifted. Though did you have to choose a commoner? Low-blood always does tell. And he's Hylian. The rules state our champions must be one of our chosen races."

"He has some Sheikah blood in him, buried deep." Farore retorted. Nayru snorted.

"Those Sheikah are nothing like you, Shadow-Walker. They're practically Hylians."

"Practically human, you mean. What would have me do? Let them live a thirty-year lifespan, never sleeping to make up for it? The Mad God lived up to his name when he made the Shadow-Walkers. Were it not for immortality, I should have been dead not three years after the creation of Hyrule."

"Don't blasphemise him. Magical barrier or not, you don't know if he can hear." Nayru admonished, voice hushed.

"Just so." Farore agreed. "Do you truly intend to start the cycle of the Cataclysm yet again? Must we put the country through it once more?"

"You needn't complain. Your foreigner pawn Thereo won it the last truly glorious cycle, as I recall."

"Yes, and a great many lost their lives to our games."

"Everyone dies." The Goddess of Wisdom dismissed. "Some sooner than others. At least they were a part of something greater than their sordid, ordinary lives. Now, enough talk. I must ready my own pawns." The Goddess of Courage sighed.

"Fine. When are we to begin the new cycle?"

"In two years. Now I really must leave. Zelda will need strengthening if she is to perform well." The taller woman flicked her fingers and disappeared in a burst of blue light and violet scent.

_Showoff_, Farore thought. And then she remembered she was alone once more.

The one thing Farore was frightened of was silence. A silly fear, as silence could not kill. But perhaps it was the right thing for a Goddess to fear, as nothing could kill her. She sighed, a waved at a small collection of musical instruments hanging on the far side of the spacious room. They rose into the air and began to play, as if invisible musicians were performing.

Her fears relieved, Farore settled herself in front of the Game Table. It was circular, and represented a miniature model of the Hyrulean landscape. Key points such as the Barrier Temples, Temple of Time, and leylines were clearly marked. Sitting on a small side table were the six figurines that represented the six races of Hyrule.

When Farore, Din and Nayru were made Goddesses, the Mad God who reigned over the world informed them that he would not stand for duplicates of the races he'd created to reside in Hyrule – they would have to alter the thousand-strong refugees that had followed the three women to the promised land. Most had been elves, humans and Shadow-Walkers (a race of humanoid beings who never slept and only lived for thirty years, but were capable of incredible feats of strength and magic). But there were also the war-torn remains of three powerful Shapeshifting tribes; the Mountain Skins, the Deep Fishes, and the Tall Trees. Changing the racial nature of each race was a massive undertaking, so each Goddess had chosen a race and a Shapeshifting tribe to alter.

An elf herself, Nayru chose the elves, and shortened their lifespan and made their bones and immune systems stronger, changing them into Hylians, who established themselves in the forests of Northern Hyrule and on the plains. She'd let the Deep Fish tribe choose a permanent shape, and they had decided to become humanoid fishes. The Zora race had been born from the Deep Fishes.

Din had taken the humans and settled them in the shores of Lake Hylia, granting them the ability to never be lost, and making them more fertile. Din renamed the humans she'd changed the Gerudo race. She too had originally a human. Her chosen tribe, the Mountain Skins, became living rock, transforming into Gorons.

Formerly a Shadow-Walker, Farore had stripped her fellow people of much of their incredible powers in exchange for a longer life and the ability to sleep, but they retained a certain nocturnal affinity, and named themselves the Sheikah. They settled on the foothills of Death Mountain, and in the Curled Backbone mountain range that guarded the northernmost border of Hyrule. The Tall Tree tribe was more difficult. They wished to become trees, which Farore thought was inadvisable, but they insisted. So the Deku race was created. They were born mobile – as Deku Shrubs – hatching from seeds. Once they reached their full maturity they planted themselves in an ideal location and grew into massive trees. These tree beings communicated through root systems. After a century of treehood, they became mobile again, in a way. They manifested themselves in the physical form of children, becoming tree and child at the same time, entertaining themselves with play, food, and imagination. These tree-children called themselves Kokiri.

And so the six races of Hyrule were born.

Farore set the figurines down gently and disappeared from the mystical dwelling, quietly and without the drama Nayru added to her teleportation, heading for a small town in northern Hyrule called Patcheem.

It was time to set her plans in action. In two years the latest Cataclysm would occur in Hyrule once more. Until then, there was a lot of work to be done.

* * *

1. Yes. You heard right. The Goddesses are fake. They're just super-powered immortals. And the Mad God I mentioned who gifted the Hyrulean Goddesses with their powers? He's a fake too. A far, far more powerful fake, but a fake nonetheless.

2. If you're horrified that Hyrule's deities play games with their subjects, you should be.

3. Yes. The six races were all human once. The races they came from are four of ten races that populate Vanity. The ten races are all magically altered humans who came from Earth. Here are the ten races of Vanity: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, Changelings, Shapeshifters, Aerials, Colossals, Shadow-Walkers, and Demons.

Aerials have wings instead of arms. They manipulate things with their hand-like feet. Colossals average seven to nine feet in height, and have incredible strength, but have very little magic and are typically cursed with several debilitating phobias. Shadow-Walkers have pointed ears like elves, are graceful and deft, but only live to thirty, do not need to sleep, and are nearly indestructible. Demons can be any of the races – they are someone who is living but possessed by a dead soul. I will go further into this in the third book of this series, the first original book of mine.

4. This is an appropriate place to let you all wait. Enjoy your time away from COTS, which will be back, I promise.

* * *

We're getting to the 200 review mark pretty soon. You can all help COTS get there by reviewing. Let me know what you think, ask questions (I answer), or even suggestions for where the story should go. I love them all.

Kudos,

Rin.


	17. Hyrule

Hey guys, long time no see. Now that I have the School Work-Load of Death off my shoulders, I've finally finished chapter 17. Yaaaay!

Inspired by Ocarina of Time. Much of this is original.

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Chapter Sixteen: Of Hyrule**

"_It's the time of turning and there's something stirring outside  
It's the time of turning and the old world's falling  
Nothing you can do can stop the next emerging  
Time of the turning and we'd better learn to say our goodbyes"_

~ Time of the Turning – Peter Gabriel

* * *

Link and Ganondorf were glad to get out of Parchen as soon as they could. The two males were alone, no guards to hinder their journey. They packed up before dawn, supplies for the next few days already purchased the day before. Ganondorf helped Link pack up the wagon, before moving on to ready his two mares, Sunfire and Fanna, and harness them to the wooden vehicle. Both steeds were beautiful animals, desert-bred. They were large, sturdy creatures, cold bloods bred for strength and endurance, not the fine-boned racers prized by the Hylians. Nevertheless, the inn's stableboy watched enviously from a corner of the stable

It was perhaps a year after the signing of the Rabiyu Accord. To recognize the first anniversary, and to tie the new Gerudo Province to the rest of Hyrule, Link was to live at the Hylian capital for a few years. There he would be taught with other noble sons, and prepare for his future as the heir to the Gerudo throne. Link had taken the news quietly and gravely, as was his way these days. He'd nodded, and gone on with his history lesson. He'd told his family after dinner, and gone out to the courtyard for extra practice with his glaive. Reya had taken it hard, while Aya and Dinah were awed and a little shocked. Only Nabooru was not surprised – Ganondorf had sought her opinion and approval early on.

Ganondorf checked the wagon's wheels and axles, and finally declared himself satisfied. The King climbed onto the front seat next to Link, and whistled at the horses to move.

Soon Parchen was a large blot fading in the distance, all of the central steppes laid out before them. As they traveled, Ganondorf quizzed the boy about lower-class Hylian customs that had made their way into the upper-class. It was customary to knock thrice on a doorway once the door was open, to ward off bad luck. Salt should never be thrown over the shoulder, nor used to melt ice in the winter. And fingers were snapped when one disagreed with a point raised in discussion, rather than simply saying so, as was Gerudo custom.

There were no guards traveling with them. Times were tight in the Gerudo Province and in Drought Country. It was early spring – the winter had been long in the north and east, so food was scarce. Few could be spared to guard, not when everyone had to work in mines, workshops or factories in order to raise enough money to keep the Gerudos from starving. Now a province, the Hylians were obligated to send aid, but things were tough all over, and the newly born province was far away. Ganondorf and Link would have preferred to stay home and help, but diplomacy had to be maintained to ensure aid was sent. Therefore, the two males traveled alone.

Their cheeks were hollow with past hunger. The Gerudo were used to the starving times – it was the reason why everyone ate at the Food Court, letting professional cooks make the food rather than individuals. It was easier to ration food that way. Aid from the Hylians had been a welcome prospect, but for the results of one bringing of such aid.

Tragically, a few well-snails had traveled on Hylian food wagons to the Fortress, and made their way to one of the wells in the residential Fortress, and poisoned the water supply for much of the area. Twenty-three women and children had died before the well could be purified. For a population of a thousand, twenty-three was a massive blow. Well-snails were a deadly pest, eating purification spells laid in the shaft and mortar of wells. After devouring the magic, they passed the magic on in their noxious waste, spreading terrible toxins in the befouled water. Link's agemate Sooru had been one of the victims, as was chief of the guard, Joruya. Ganondorf had raged for a week, sure the snails had been brought on purpose. His wife Nabooru had done her best, calmed him down before he broke anything irreplaceable, and sent him out of the Fortress into the Wasteland to enlarge what the women now called the 'Glass Oasis.' These outbursts from the King were increasing in frequency, and the inhabitants of the Fortress were accustomed to explosions in the night by now. To make up for their own men's folly, extra aid was promised to the Gerudos by the Hylian court.

Now, riding across the western steppes, Ganondorf sighed and turned his attention back to his pupil.

"How do Hylians salute their betters?" He quizzed. Link nodded.

"Like this, sir." He fisted his right hand, brought it up to kiss the knuckles, and laid his palm flat over his heart as he bowed to his King.

"Very good. Now, list each of the Hylian provinces, including ours, and name the top three or four exports of each area." The boy blinked thoughtfully, thinking carefully.

"Gerudo Province; glass, silk, pigment, and horses." He recited dutifully "Drought Country; gemstones, sandstone, sheep and goat products. The Province of Arryn; steel, coni… coniferous lumber, gold, and nuts."

"Actually, the top export of Arryn is mage supplies grown or crafted directly over leylines." Ganondorf corrected gently.

"Oh. Okay. Er… Province of the Crown; coinage, high quality crafted goods, tin and chalk."

"Good." The man approved.

"Mountain Province; Goron goods, root vegetables, mountain herbs, poppies. Rainfall Province; fish, coffee, tobacco, and grain. Plains Province; grain, dairy, livestock, horses. Province of Imally; iron, hardwood lumber, liquor, fur, manufactured goods. Lakeland Province; fruit, grain, vegetables, and silver. And um, Province of Lake Hylia; seafood, wine, medicine, fruit and grain."

"Very good. Now, what is the correct way to begin a meal, in the tradition of the Hylian High Court, when the King is present…?"

And so their conversation went for most of the day. They ate lunch and dinner on the road, not bothering to stop except to rest the horses and let them graze midway through the day.

They set up camp an hour before sunset, moving off the road to the shelter of a grove of trees. Link watched as Ganondorf carefully set up barrier and protection spells, as well as an alarm spell to wake them if anyone approached. When Ganondorf announced it was bedtime, Link rolled out his bedroll on a patch of soft grass, curled up under the comfort of his warm blankets and the reassuring security of his light stone, and slept deeply. His night was a rare, dreamless one, free of his usual nightmares of darkness or helplessness.

The moons moved across the sky, the planet called Vanity turned inexorably beneath all its sleepers, wheeling its way around the sun through the starry vacuum of space. Far away, a world called Earth slept too, the world from whence all the peoples of Vanity had come some millennia ago.

* * *

For all his maturity, Link was still eleven, and furthermore, growing like a weed. So once Ganondorf woke him up at dawn to pack up camp, the King fed the boy and let him nap in the back of the covered wagon, cushioned by bags of clothing and silks meant for the Queen and Crown Princess, as well as the court ladies the Queen favored.

Link woke somewhere around ten, and crawled over the boxes of provisions and settled onto the driver's bench. He offered a packet of dried fruit leather to his mentor, as well as a canteen of lukewarm tea. Ganondorf accepted the refreshments gratefully. The wagon was in the typical Hylian style, rectangular in shape for both wagon bed and frame. The roof was supported by vertical beams rising from the deep wagon bed, the tin roof waterproofing the vehicle, curved just enough to shed rain easily. The tin was covered in undyed canvas to shed heat. The sides of the wagon cover were sturdy canvas, nailed to the sides of the frame and the edge of the wagon bed. Here and there were gaps in the fabric to provide light and ventilation. There was a bench, sheltered by the roof, in front to drive the two horses that pulled the vehicle. Spells carved into the wood made the wagon light enough to only require two horses to draw it.

The wagon carried many things. Link's clothes and weapons, his study materials and favorite books. Ganondorf had packed enough of his own possessions for the journey and the month-long stay at the Capitol. The wagon carried the provisions needed for the two week journey from the Fortress to the Capitol. There were books on Gerudo culture, history, and traditional stories for the Crown Princess, who was supposedly a little too intellectual to be properly feminine by Hylian nobility's standards. There were silks, in satin, batik, and fine veils, fine jewelry, much of it crafted by Aya, the King's sister-in-law. There were jars and jars of spices, bundles of pigment, finely hammered copper creations, and elaborate fantasies of glass. To prevent theft, if anyone besides Link or Ganondorf tried to remove the goods from the wagon, they would be knocked unconscious by a spell the older man had cast. Together these goods represented a fortune in traditional Gerudo products, and would be given to the Hylian King to show the Gerudo's commitment to peace, but also to buy goodwill.

Later, Ganondorf gently nudged Link's knee to get his attention out of the book he was reading – _The Fine and Noble Historie of the Royale Hyrule Dynasty._

"There, my boy, is Mudwater, not an hour away." The man said, pointing to the looming shape sitting bodily on the near edge of the horizon. "An unappealing name for a far more charming city. Every building there is made of sandstone, in shades of white, gold, orange, pink and red. It is a beautiful sight." Sure enough, within forty-five minutes, they were at the open gates of the massive fortified town. The walls of the capital of Drought Country were like the desert sunset captured in stone, built of great blocks of warm-toned sandstone.

Rather than insist on the locals greet them with fanfare and bended knee, the King of the Gerudos and his heir entered town quietly and without fuss. This low-maintenance behavior had already endeared the Drought Country gentry to the leader of the new, neighboring province. The gatekeeper noted their names, status, and intentions for entering the town down on his records tablet. He called for his assistant, a younger man, who he asked to take his place. The gatekeeper, graying and scruffy, bowed and saluted Ganondorf.

"Welcome to Mudwater, my lord Duke Ganondorf." The ruler of each Province was entitled Duke of the province. "It is not yet four past noon. As you plan to leave in two days, would you care for a tour of the city? I know the place well, my lord." He smiled and patted his pocket discreetly. Ganondorf nodded in agreement, and the gatekeeper's smile widened. The King of the Gerudos had silently agreed to pay the man for his efforts. Link didn't notice, entranced by the bustling city.

"What is your name, Master Gatekeeper?" Ganondorf inquired, tilting his head in query.

"Nerodis Dnighy, my lord." The man said deferentially. He pronounced his surname 'Din-nyee-hee.'

"Your assistant is to fill your duties?" Ganondorf asked, and the scrawny gatekeeper nodded.

"Yes, my lord. He needs to learn to take charge sooner rather than later, if you get my drift, sir."

"Indeed. Come with us then, Master Nerodis. I have visited here before, but I confess my visit was too brief to discover the character of the city. You shall have to assist me and my boy in this matter."

"I will, sir!" Nerodis bowed again and climbed onto the wagon bench next to Link. Ganondorf flicked the reins and sent the pair of horses trotting down the orange cobbled road. Nerodis introduced himself to Link cheerfully.

"Hullo, my young lord! Welcome to the lovely city of Mudwater. We're the province-seat of Drought Country, and a proper duchy at that. The honorable Duke Benyamin of Mudwater lives in that yon castle over there." Nerodis nodded his head at the castle rising in the center of the city, planted on the crown of a steep hill that swelled up from the flat steppe.

The castle was built sturdy and squat – its beauty came not from its design but its color – it had been built, painstakingly, with alternating blocks of white and golden sandstone. From the fattest turret flew two flags – the flag of the ruling family of Drought Country, a long-tailed meadowlark with a dark green locust in one claw, set on a field of yellow-green. The second flag was that of the Hylian Royal Family – a golden Triforce and crimson phoenix emblazoned on royal blue, bordered in gold. A brisk wind flew over the city walls, and over the central hill of the city, making the flags snap in the breeze.

Nerodis pointed out the sights as they drove through the streets. This eatery had been here since before the city had existed, back when there was only the castle on the hill – it had been an inn in those days. This section of town had burned to the ground, and was rebuilt on a grander scale. That corner had witnessed a brutal murder years ago, in daylight for all to see.

"Best shoes in the city in that shop, and I know the man who works that smithy, fine fellow. Never go into that place, the food is passable but the booze is piss-poor. Oh! pardon my language, my lords." He covered himself swiftly, gesturing to a brightly painted alehouse that Ganondorf thought had looked welcoming. "Now as for that shrine, why…" Link let the man's words fade into a droning murmur, blue eyes devouring the sights, the stone buildings in all their colors.

Soon the wagon reached the inn that was their destination. Nerodis joined the stable hands in unhitching the horses and bringing in the travel bags to the lord's rooms once Link and Ganondorf had taken them from the back of the wagon.

Once they had stored their belongings, Nerodis took Link and Ganondorf on foot around the city, chattering away as they walked. He was a font of information and local color.

When lunchtime rolled around, the gatekeeper sat his noble charges on the long flight of steps to a great cathedral, the solid structure built entirely out of sandstone that was pale mauve-pink with a creamy swirl of lily white. He disappeared to find a meal for them, with Ganondorf's leave. The two Gerudo sat and surveyed the large market square that the church overlooked, what Nerodis had said was the very heart of the city. There was the city guild building across the square, proud and resplendent in red stone. To the left was the long, winding paved road that led uphill to the Duke's castle. On the right stood two buildings - the regal white façade of the city courts, and the golden blocks of Mudwater's University. The University had a tall clock tower – all sixteen hours were elegant, aged copper numbers, the clock hands the same delicate pale green. Merchants sold their wares in covered stalls in the square, calling out their inventories at passersby.

Nerodis returned balancing a tray of food. Wiry sinews flexed in his legs as he climbed the stairs to his charges, shins bared by faded breeches. Carefully and quite aware of his lower status, Nerodis sat one step lower than Link and Ganondorf. He set the tray down and pulled the covering cloth off, revealing the meal. There were two wooden bowls of rabbit stew, long strips of herb flatbread, fried vegetables and a spicy yogurt sauce to dip them in, a flask of milk for Link, and a mug of ale for the Gerudo King. There was a short glass of clear liquid which Nerodis took for himself, gulping it down and smacking his lips after. Hungry from their morning of travel and long walk through the city, the two Gerudo dug in. The rabbit stew was quite rich – the chucks of meat were tender, the pieces of potato, parsnip, and carrot had been seasoned and roasted before being added to the pot. The gravy tasted faintly of garlic and onion, and wine added richness to the thick liquid. They ate with the eating-sticks most of Southern Hyrule ate with – Northern flatware was not to be trusted to scruffy gatekeepers like Nerodis, even if he claimed to be serving a great lord, Nerodis said apologetically. The two Gerudo claimed it was fine, and Nerodis relaxed, watching them carefully but deferentially.

"Should I stay silent, my lords, and let you enjoy your meal unbothered, or shall I provide entertainment?"

"Keep talking, please." Link said, taking a long drink of milk. Ganondorf took a sip of his ale, then hummed in pleasure when it met his standards.

"I will second that." The older Gerudo said.

"Very good, my lords. Well then! Your stew and bread came from a little tavern called Snake in the Grass, as did my lord's ale. Finest food in the city, after the food on Duke Benyamin's table, which I will likely never taste, so it's just as well. Their liquor is second only to that out of Imally. The veggies and dip are a local specialty, and the best of it comes from tiny little place in a side alley, doesn't even have a name but we of Mudwater call it Hole-in-the-Wall." The fried vegetables turned out to be zucchini, eggplant, squash, and onion, not over-salted in the slightest. The yogurt dip was sharp with pepper, cilantro, and ground hot-thorn seeds. Link liked it, eating voraciously. As he ate, Nerodis fed his mind as well.

"Mudwater was built by the Duke's forefathers, to defend the local sandstone quarries and the nearby villages of Pastern, Upment, Haltierty, and Hallonetment. Fire spirits came here from the fires of the Curled Backbone Range, that's why we have so many hot springs in the area. In the center of town you'll find the Boiling Mire – it's a lake of mud, really, but it boils like a full pot on the fire. Mudwater gets its name from the Mire, y'see. Mud taken from the Mire has special healing properties. It was our Lady Miralie of Haltierty who discovered their powers. She was a holy woman who lived in these parts about two hundred years ago, and was much loved by the Goddesses. A natural healer, her. A miracle worker. That great cathedral over there was built in her name, and the Lady's bones are cared for there by the priests and priestesses. We get pilgrims from all over seeking healings from the mud and from what is left, beyond the grave, of our Lady's tender powers."

"Fascinating." Ganondorf said quietly after he swallowed his mouthful. "I would like to see this Boiling Mire, as well as the cathedral whose steps we are sitting on. I believe it would be a fine learning experience for Link."

"Yessir. Second worship starts in an hour, so it would be better to go into the Church of Our Lady Miralie of Haltierty first."

"Very well, then." Ganondorf approved. There was a loud slurping sound from Link, who was greedily drinking the last of the rabbit stew. Ganondorf ate the remaining crumbs of the tender flatbread and moved on to his vegetables. The dish was a delicious mix of texture, temperature, and flavor. The cool yogurt contrasted with the hot fried vegetables, as did the creaminess of the dip, the crispy crunch of the fried outside and soft, hot vegetable inside. The Gerudo King made a pleased sound in his throat as he ate. Link surreptitiously stole some pieces of fried zucchini with sneaky eating-sticks. Ganondorf let him get away with it this time – usually he would comment on technique to help the boy improve his skills in theft, but not today.

At last the two Gerudo were finished with their meal. Nerodis took the plates, bowls and utensils, and returned them to the pub he'd gotten them from. Ganondorf and Link quietly discussed the clothes of passersby, the various fashions of Northern and Southern Hyrule, and that of Drought Country. As they talked, some unusually bold sparrows flew down and pecked at the crumbs on the ground, left over from the meal. With loud peeps, the birds called their fellows to the small feast.

Nerodis came trotting back eventually, and led his charges into the soaring heights of the Miralie Cathedral.

The inside was made of the same soft pink and white stone as the exterior. The vaulted ceiling loomed overhead. The floor was paved in dark piebald granite of heavy grey and rose pink, polished to a high shine. Flecks of mica in the stone floor glittered in the light that shone through high stained glass windows, which depicted the flora and fauna of the steppes in shades of amber, green, and blue.

Nerodis spoke in hushed voice of the history of the church – How the Lady Miralie had been a commoner, and a healer, seven hundred years ago. She single-handedly guided the Mudwater area through a nasty bout of cholera and a plague of leprosy. After living a long, fruitful life, she died in her bed, surrounded by her second husband and horde of children. Miralie of Haltierty had been made nobility after her death, and her oldest son became a Baron. Her noble descendants had long since married into Lark House, the family that ruled Drought Country. The Lady Miralie was popular amongst the common people, so six hundred years ago, one of the Dukes of Mudwater had commissioned the cathedral to be built in the Lady's name. The pink and cream sandstone was local, the granite flooring brought from the Province of Arryn, just to the north of Drought Country.

The pews that lined each side of the wide aisle were white marble. Up front, the clerics, both priests and priestess, were preparing incense and candles for the second worship of the day. The Goddesses required Hylians to worship thrice a day, and Highday was to be kept holy by a lack of work, and daylong attendance to a local church service. Every town of any worth had a church with a tall bell tower, so the bell that called the people to prayer could be heard, ringing from the local church in every town in Hyrule. The altar, on its high dais in the Miralie Cathedral, was a massive block of pink sandstone, covered by a white altar-cloth embroidered with copper thread.

Nerodis led Link and Ganondorf up a side aisle. Across the sanctuary, on the far side of the altar stood the traditional statue of the three Goddesses raising the Triforce up in triumph. On the near side of the altar there was a sculpture of lesser beauty but greater detail. The subject was a pug-nosed woman, with corkscrew-curly hair. Kindly wrinkles framed eyes that squinted slightly. In her left hand she held a glass jar filled with mud – likely mud taken from the Mire of Mudwater. Her right hand was raised in either greeting or in blessing. Tiger's eye inlays served for golden-brown irises, her simple dress and cloak were both painted a delicate petal-pink.

"Always one for pink, Our Lady was. Never seen wearing any other color." Nerodis murmured, his voice hushed with respect. "I saw you were wonderin' why the church is all in pink. It became her symbol. We of the lower status in the city, drink vodka and pomegranate juice, mixed, on her feast day. Pink for the Pink Lady." The middle-aged man scratched his grey, scruffy bearded neck absently. "I was wondering, my Lords." He paused. Ganondorf grew impatient.

"Yes? Wondering what?" He prompted.

"Could we stay in here during Second Worship? It's only I've never seen the rituals during a normal non-Highday Worship before, and if I were alone or with those of my class, them priests would kick me or us out sooner than you could say… well, you know." Ganondorf looked outraged, Link disbelieving.

"They would remove a believer from a place of worship merely based on class?" The dark-skinned man wondered, and Nerodis nodded.

"They would rightly do so, my Lord. Too many bottom feeders pollute their crystal waters, or that's about what they might think. They won't remove you though, sir. You are obviously from up higher."

"We are wearing simple traveler's clothes – worn ones."

"Yes, but you look like a king wearing them clothes." Nerodis pointed out stubbornly. "It's the dignity, sir. You wear it like some men wear one of them plumed hats I hear are big up North." Ganondorf smiled thinly.

"If this is true, then by all means, we will stay for your second worship."

"Thank you, sir." Ganondorf and Nerodis jumped as the massive bells in the cathedral's bell tower were struck, ringing in deafening tones that vibrated through the sanctuary. Link was not surprised – in the hushed silences of every part of the church he'd heard the bell ringer's boots stamping up the back stairs not long ago. He'd also heard the bell ringer grunt as he heaved on the bell's rope, in concert with the groan of pulley supports. As he learned more and more about his magic, mostly through trial and error, Link had discovered two new talents – incredibly sharp hearing, and an uncanny ability to mimic sounds and voices, to the hilaria of his family.

Upon hearing the bell, Nerodis sank into a deep bow, knees, forehead and open palms pressed to the ground. Up by the altar, one of the clerics took out a tiny mallet and rung a small chime, over and over. A second priest lit a stick of incense and carefully waved it through the air. The priestess sifted a blue silk scarf through her silver-clawed hands. The three's movements were synchronized, keeping a rhythm that Link let himself sway to as he watched.

No prayers were said, no praise spoken. With his superior hearing, Link heard what Ganondorf had not – once the bells stopped ringing, Nerodis' breath hitched, then his respiration cycle slowed significantly. If Link had been able to see the gatekeeper's face, he would have seen Nerodis' brow creased in concentration. Link stepped forward, thinking to help the gatekeeper and get him breathing properly. Ganondorf raised a hand, and the boy held himself in check and stayed where he was standing. Spending so much time with the king had attuned him to the subtlest of signals the man might make.

After ten minutes prone on the floor, Nerodis folded himself up and stood, breathing normally once more.

"Thank you, my lords. It was a great honor you just did me."

"You are welcome, then." Ganondorf said gravely.

"Master Nerodis," Link wondered quietly, "Why were you breathing so strangely?" The graying man turned a look of puzzlement on the young boy.

"Haven't you ever – no," Nerodis said, catching himself before he could offend, "Never mind. It was prayer-breathing. The Goddesses must be worshipped in silence. Thought pollutes prayer, or so the priests say. When we pray we think only of our breath, and the pattern of the prayer-breathing. How is it that you and your kin serve the Goddesses, my young lord?"

"We burn incense, candles and sweetgrass resin at shrines. On holy days the Fortress says prayers over locusts. We ask Din for strength and kindness, for a good year, so the Gerudo don't starve. The locusts are fed to a wild swallow. The swallow is released, so it can fly our prayers up to Din." Link shrugged. "That's what we do to pray."

"Very interesting, my Lord." The gatekeeper said politely. He was really thinking how strange it was, for someone not to know what prayer-breathing was. Every Hylian in Hyrule, north or south, prayed in this manner thrice a day. How could they not know? But he knew better than to voice such opinions. Knew his place, more like. "Anyway," Nerodis said smoothly, "That's the Cathedral. The Mire is halfway across the inner city, and it's quite a walk from here." Ganondorf nodded.

"Then we should leave now. Link, are you satisfied with what you've learned from this church?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Come then, Master Nerodis, take us to the Mire of Mudwater." Nerodis wiped his hand over his mouth, then turned to go.

"Very good, my Lord." He said with a quick dip of a bow, "Come this way, good sirs." Nerodis gestured for the two Gerudo to follow him. Link and Ganondorf followed the gatekeeper out of the still, sacred silence of the Miralie Cathedral, and into the harsh sunlight of midday.

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1. Not much plot, really. But I intend to acquaint you all with at least one city in each province by the time this duology is through. I am taking a course this semester – Medieval Culture, and boy, is it improving my writing. I also lived in England for three of my later childhood years, so it has a noticeable impact on my writing.

2. There is a cultural culinary divide of sorts in Hyrule – in the North they eat with the utensils we are used to – forks, spoons and knives. In the South, Hylians (and Gerudos) eat with a pair of eating sticks – i.e. chop sticks. The divide is slightly diagonal, cutting straight across Hyrule from between Parchen and Mudwater, to Loggershead. (See my maps of Hyrule on my livejournal at http: / / rinrabble . livejournal. com / 1556 . html Just delete the spaces.) Mudwater is in Northern Hyrule, but Drought Country is considered Southern, so there is a mixing of cultures in Mudwater. In the lands where eating-sticks are predominantly used, food is prepared in bite-sized pieces. Also, the South tends to make flatbread, whereas the North does not. The North cooks with butter, while the South cooks with olive oil.

3. I will go into the north/south divide more later – whoever knew I could write politics?

4. Just to let you all know, Nerodis is in his late sixties. Because Hylians are descended from elves, they have a lifespan of about one-hundred and fifty years of life. That doesn't mean they don't usually die of complications before then, but they start getting decrepit around age one hundred. Humans/Gerudos get old around eighty, and go downhill from there. Sheikah live until about eighty, but can live as old as one-hundred. Everyone reaches maturity about the same age, and adulthood, legally, is age 18.

5. Upper class citizens show respect to those of the lower class by calling them 'Master So-and-so'. A married woman would be a Madam, while an unmarried woman would be a Mistress.

6. In our world, Lady Miralie would be called a saint. In Hyrule she is simply a holy woman of great renown who is not clergy. Hyrule has both priests and priestesses. Despite worshipping the Goddesses, Hylians are fiercely patriarchal. If the Goddesses weren't female, there would be no priestesses at all. It evens out.

7. Some of you asked about the loose end with Roderick. For future reference, any time I go into depth with a seemingly minor character, there is a reason why I am paying such attention to them. I'm not the type to just use a person and drop them. Speaking of which, did you all like Nerodis? Surprisingly, he's grown on me.

8. Also, some readers have expressed concern about the lack of canon in this fic. We're getting there. We shall arrive in Hyrule Castle Town by chapter eighteen. This latest story arc is important in the long run, though, and has a purpose for being included. We'll get to fantastic weapons and treasure and monsters, but not yet. You don't pick a flower before it blooms – patience is needed.

9. We've hit 15,800 hits!

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You all know how much I like reviews by now, right? We're only eighteen away from two hundred! So please review!


	18. Muddy Waters

Okay, so its been what, two weeks since I last posted? This is yet another monster-chapter. Enjoy!

Inspired by Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

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Chapter Seventeen: Of Muddy Waters

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The walk to the Mire was long. Link and Ganondorf trailed after Nerodis, the scrawny, scruffy gatekeeper, through the busier part of Mudwater. In the middle of an open square, roiled a seething lake of dark mud. Even from the edge of the square they could hear the bubbles popping, wet _shlups_ as superheated air escaped out of the mud. The fumes themselves smelled horrendous, like fish. There was a fence, a safe distance away from the edge of the edge of the boiling Mire.

Link edged up to the fence. The wind turned from south-easterly to easterly, blowing the hot steam from the Mire right into his face. The boy made a face – it smelled bad, but at least it smelt of fish, and not of rotting fish, as the Gerudo fisheries had when he had visited them a year before.

Nerodis fetched the local expert on the Mire, a man who was paid by the city to educate those who came to see the Mire. When Link was bored, Nerodis showed the boy few local shops, just across the road, that sold items of the Mire. Link looked through the books available, and settled on buying a thick pamphlet on the properties of the Mire mud, and a thinly bound book on the history of the city. These he purchased with rupees from his coin pouch. A small jar of Mire mud caught his eye – and he bought that too.

"Do you think a girl my age would like this?" The preteen asked, hefting the jar in query. Nerodis considered it.

"Girls usually don't like dirt – but this mud is special – good for skin ailments, especially rashes and the like. Even works on leprosy, or so I hear. Maybe this girl could use it when she gets spotty – as she likely will when she hits her teens. Who are you thinking of, lad? Is it an arranged marriage?" Link grinned crookedly. Nerodis couldn't know he'd one day act as Ganondorf now did, siring many Gerudo daughters. That was far away, though, and he really wasn't interested in girls yet, except as friends. Instead he brushed auburn bangs out of his face and turned to the scrawny gatekeeper.

"No. I'm not engaged. King Ganondorf is sending me to the Capitol to learn with the other noble boys. I figured I'd get something personally for Princess Zelda, since we're going to meet her. Girls like to be given thoughtful gifts – I should know." He said with a smirk, and Nerodis grinned right back at him.

"Seeing as your race is all women anyway, hm? I know how it is – I'm the twelfth of twelve, and nine sisters. We were born to a wealthy merchants, but by the time my Pop got done with their dowries, there weren't nothing left for me. So a gatekeeper I'll stay, with my wife and my own daughters." Nerodis whistled to himself. "The Crown Princess herself! I've been meeting all these big names, but to--! Naotu will never let me hear the end of it, mute or not!"

Link froze. He cocked his head in thought, and turned to Nerodis.

"This Naotu… Is she a Gerudo?" Nerodis blinked down at the boy.

"Why yes, so she is. Like my own daughter, she is. Why?" The light in Link's eyes dimmed.

"She was my sister's mother. But she ran away. Ganondorf will want to know. Stay here, please." The Gerudo boy left before Nerodis could reply, heading for the king, who was finished listening to the local Mire expert and was now leaning against the fence around the boiling mud lake, waiting for his appointed heir and local guide to return.

Polite or not, Nerodis knew he had been given an order, and so he stayed where he was. Uneasy, and wondering what these nobles - admittedly pleasant, respectful ones, but nobles nonetheless – wanted with a woman he'd come to see as part of the family.

The tall Gerudo had to bend down to let Link whisper in his ear. Several emotions passed over the man's face as Nerodis watched anxiously. And then the king's face settled into stillness, a careful façade. He put a gentle hand on his heir's shoulder, then strode over to the shop Link had left the gatekeeper in.

"How did you meet her, Master Nerodis?" Ganondorf asked without preamble.

"Naotu, you mean, my lord. When my oldest girl Delia married, we had a room free in our home, so we rented it out. The only offer was this mute Gerudo girl. We learned that she'd been exiled by her people." Nerodis gave the king a meaningful look, which the larger man ignored. "She married a man, but chose poorly. She told us he blamed her for his loss of reputation, and went into debt because of his love for the dice. He tried to make her sell herself for money, and when she refused he cut out her tongue and ended the marriage." Ganondorf sucked in a breath, but let Nerodis finish. "She took work as a maid, and then a weaver when her employer fired her when she caught him sleeping around, twice. She cannot speak, but carries a slate tablet and chalk with her wherever she goes. By my reckoning, she's been with us for… at least fifteen years. How do you know her, my Lord? And why was she exiled from your race?"

"I never exiled her – she did that herself. I was sixteen when I met her, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the Fortress. Naotu was two years older than I, and she had not passed the Woman's Ordeal, but I ignored that, though it meant a weakness of character. She was to be my maid, carrying messages, fetching drinks and tidying up my rooms. I courted her, though she was shy, but I could not marry her – as I could only marry the woman who could rule alongside me, but that didn't mean I couldn't love her. She gave birth to my firstborn, my heir Rabiyu. I wanted her to live in my rooms, as the mother of the next Queen, but after I told her of my plans, she packed her few things and left. I raised our daughter myself. I have not seen nor heard of Naotu since."

Nerodis swallowed. "Maybe she might not want to see you then, if that is her story."

Ganondorf sighed and rubbed one of his temples.

"She was Rabiyu's mother. And now Rabiyu is dead. At least give me the dignity to tell her that in person." Nerodis looked aghast.

"If that's the case, she must see you! But not today. She works until sunset every day. But tomorrow is Highday, so she could see you in the morning, after First Worship and before High Worship."

"Very well. Where do you live? I would prefer to let her know in a place where she feels safe."

Nerodis gave Ganondorf the address, and then begged dismissal, as he needed to return to the post he should have been at all along. The king gave it to him graciously, and the graying man left hurriedly, after bowing. He would receive his payment for his guidance a day later, so he couldn't back out on showing the Gerudos Naotu.

Link and Ganondorf walked back to their lodgings slowly, with detours to chase birds in the squares along the way. They settled into their rooms and packed their purchases from the Mire, and sent a message to the Duke in his castle, letting him know one of his peers (Ganondorf) was visiting the city for a short period.

Though it had been an eventful day, it was not yet four in the afternoon. Sunset was not until ten, so they poured themselves refreshing mugs of iced peppermint tea, very welcome after the dust of the city streets.

Ganondorf was explaining to Link the political ramifications of the cultural split between North and South Hyrule when someone scratched at the door. The Gerudo King bid them enter, and the door opened to reveal their messenger. Apparently the Duke Benyamin wished for Ganondorf and his heir to dine with him that very evening, at the castle on the hill.

So the pair went down to the wagon to pull out clothes they had packed for the benefit of the Hylian King's High Court. The cut of the clothes were fine, made to the sensibilities of Hylian men's fashion. But both Ganondorf and Link had cut the line at pleated breeches with hose, foppish loose shirts with wide open necklines, and overlarge codpieces, all styles very popular in the North. Rather than chase the latest fad, the two male Gerudos would be dressed in a classic fusion of Southern and Gerudo styles. Light weight cloth, kept simple, long-sleeved shirts, loose trousers, and a tunic over the shirt. Mostly in Gerudo colors, and enough intricate, traditional Gerudo embroidery to satisfy any over-decorated Northerner.

The selected garments were laid out on Ganondorf's bed, and then he and his pupil retreated to the sofa in the main room, for another round of iced mint tea.

"Why do all the Dukes want to meet you?" Link wondered into his mug, rolling it carefully between his palms. "You've already met Lord Benyamin who rules Drought Country. And then the Dukes of Lakeland, Arryn, and Lake Hylia came to the Fortress personally. And everyone else sent like a ten-scroll message over the leylines. They've all met you before you were a Duke, so what's up with that?" Ganondorf took a long swallow of tea.

"They all met me when we – the Gerudo - were trying to gain Province status. Now that I am their peer, it's a whole new game. We may be a small province, but a very wealthy one, considering our population." Link frowned in confusion. "Let me put it this way – we have no unemployment – every woman works as soon as she is old enough. The mentally handicapped are given small, easy tasks, but they are kept busy. Those too old for physical labor are given more age-suitable activities, like documentation and management, for those who have any kind of leadership qualities. Those too old to do even that watch the children in the crèches, and take teaching positions. Our glassmaking secrets remain kept, our craftsmanship continues to be that of high quality, our materials for glass easily available – sand, from the desert – and in nearly unlimited quantities. With every person working to contribute, it is obvious we have a system that works, and thus, I, have a way of leading my people that works. The other, older Dukes want to learn that secret. Of course, the secret is really all in the people, not the king, though. There are other reasons as well."

"Like what?" Ganondorf looked amused at that question.

"I'll tell you when you're older – or when what I'm planning comes to fruition."

Link gave a snort of frustration. He'd heard _of_ the plan, but not anything _about_ the plan. It was very aggravating, particularly when Link knew he was a major part of the plan.

_Endear yourself to the Hylian nobility, _Ganondorf had said, _Get them to see the Gerudo Province as a viable part of the country, one to invest in. Attract the attention of the Crown Princess in particular, and the noble boys you will be taking classes with. Learn - if you can do it discreetly and without attracting attention to it - the secrets of those around you. Do that, and we will be richly rewarded._ _You will work on the North and the heirs, while I will work on the South and the throne, and its people. I cannot tell you more than that, for fear you will be discovered, and the more important plans revealed._

"Everything in its own time, Link." The king said now, gently. "Now, enough study and politics for now, there will be plenty of time to focus during dinner with the Duke. Wait for one moment, I'll be back." The Gerudo King stood and retrieved a book from the satchel in his room. He opened the book as he sat on the couch. "Now is the time for more… diverting topics. This is a book of logic-puzzles, recently written by a mathematician in Kelyeso, by the name of Lowes Cageall. He prefers Gerudo math systems above all, so some of this should be familiar to you, if you have learned your material as I hoped you would." Link perked – he loved puzzles, particularly riddles, but logic and math were almost as good, and Ganondorf encouraged those two subjects over riddles. Ganondorf tossed Link a small blank notebook – one of dozens they had brought along – and a charcoal pencil to take notes with.

"Now, if you're ready, we'll start with a simple puzzle: If blue says green lies, green says red lies, and red says blue and green both lie, who is telling the truth?"

Link bent himself to the task.

* * *

Duke Benyamin of Mudwater, ruler of Drought Country, was an intimidating presence. He was about half a head taller even than Ganondorf, his shoulders broader, no mean feat for an elfin Hylian. The man was heavily muscled, but at the ripe age of 82, had developed a slight belly despite his apparent attempts to stay fit. The Duke cultivated a short beard, shot through with grey, as was his closely cropped hair. There was none of that Northern nonsense of flowing long hair, kept in braids or in (admittedly tidy) ques.

Benyamin welcomed his guests heartily, his face creased with lines that spoke of good humor and thoughtfulness, but also of hard times in the past. His clothes were of high quality – the materials rich, the cut itself flattering – but a little worn and shabby.

The Duke seated Ganondorf at his right, and Link next to Ganondorf. Benyamin's wife, the Duchess Saryen sat next to Link, and the boy relaxed immediately in her female presence. She was of dark coloration, narrow-featured and subtly attired.

Benyamin was a cheerful man, and pleasant to be around, though his jokes were perhaps not the most tasteful. Duchess Saryen was soft but well-spoken, and politely curious about Link's life in the Fortress. She subtly kept him talking as the two Dukes spoke of more serious matters, and thus kept him distracted and entertained.

The food arrived, and the Duke led the silent prayer over the food. The castle workers all took their meals in the great hall of the castle, much like the Fortress did, though the Lark House was on a much smaller scale. On a dais stood the high table, where the nobility sat. The Duke and Duchess, their four sons (the fifth was studying at the Capitol), their two daughters, Ganondorf, and Link were the ones allowed to eat at the high table.

The first course was soft cheese dumplings, served in a tomato sauce bursting with flavor and herbs. The adults were served watered-down table wine, the children were offered a mixed juice drink – it tasted like pomegranate and apple, the pomegranate adding a richness to the juice, while the apple's sweetness softened the sharp tang of the other fruit. The second course was fresh salad greens, time-sealed and imported from Province of Arryn. The spinach and romaine leaves were dressed in some kind of oil steeped with hot-thorn leaves, mixed with vinegar, and sweetened with honey. Next came the third course, a small portion of rack of lamb, a mint sauce on the side, meant for dipping. The meat was tender and juicy, the sauce surprisingly tangy. The fourth came out, rabbit simmered in white wine and savory herbs. Finally, the fifth and final course – formal dinners came in five courses in the South, rather than the traditional ten of Northern Hyrule. The last course was desert, and it was mind-meltingly delicious. Three little pastries sat on the plate, one stuffed with toasted, spiced pecans and honey, the next a tiny apple turnover, the last shaped like a crescent and filled with lemon curd.

The only highlight of the evening besides the food, in Link's opinion, was a brief conversation with Duke Benyamin. Link had overheard the Lord of Drought Country mention to Ganondorf that his own eldest and youngest son had both been educated at the High Court.

"Why is that, sir?" The boy had wondered.

"You must understand, young Link, that each province is a world in itself – and most are completely sustainable without outside exports. There have been Dukes who have tried to split away from Hyrule and form their own country. So each Duke is required to send their sons to Hyrule Castle to be 'educated'. And the boys _are_ taught – taught the usual subjects, but especially taught to stay in line and obey the Crown. And they are also hostages. With their sons and heirs in the Capitol, no Duke would dare rebel. I even hear the Duke of Imally is required to stay at Court fifteen out of twenty months of the year. Imally is quite the upstart region. So the King has a chokehold on us all, through our sons. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Duke Benyamin nodded, satisfied.

"Good." And the Duke turned back to continue talking with Ganondorf. The Duchess Saryen then asked Link about how he felt about going to the High Court, and then fed him little anecdotes about her own sons' experiences there.

The hour grew late, and the moons had risen high in the south, by the time the two Gerudo left the castle and returned to their chosen inn.

Out in Drought Country, particularly the northern part of the province, it got cold at night. Compounding that, it was still early in spring. Back in the inn, Link said goodnight to his king, shucked off his fine clothes in his room, and folded them neatly (both Nabooru and Ganondorf had trained him well). He cleaned his teeth, washed his face, and crawled under the fine woolen covers of his bed. It had been a big day. He fell asleep not long after his head met his pillow.

* * *

Link was woken by the thunderous sound of bells clanging all over the city, and the brassy tones of the massive bronze-cast bells of the Miralie Cathedral, calling the people of Mudwater to rise and begin First Worship. There was a thump in the next room that Link took to be Ganondorf, getting ready for the day.

The boy yawned, stretching, then pulled a shirt and some trousers out of his satchel, hopping on one foot to get his pants on. He splashed water on his face, then finger-combed his wayward, flattened bangs into order. It was a matter of a few minutes to wrap his turban properly.

He and Ganondorf ate what the inn provided; spiced barley porridge, mutton sausage, reconstituted pears, and some clementines. A little boiling water added to a powdered mix of _Kalika _satisfied their need for a taste of home. They ate in the little 'morning room', one of the inn's nicer dining rooms. The day was shaping up to be a fine one, the sun hiding behind the only cloud in the blue, blue sky. Wiping their table down and throwing their trash in the appropriate receptacles, the two Gerudo headed out of the inn, towards the residence of one Nerodis Dnighy.

* * *

Nerodis sat next to Link at the kitchen table, trying not to eavesdrop, but listening nonetheless. For Link, with his keen hearing, it was a simple matter, as Nerodis didn't even try to pretend to make conversation. Nerodis' daughters were absent, his wife had left the room. In the dining room, Ganondorf and the long-lost Naotu spoke in hushed voices.

Link listened eagerly.

The Dnighy house was a very narrow house, wedged between two other houses. It was built of dirty white sandstone, the windows narrow and shuttered. Ganondorf had rapped on the door imperiously when they arrived, and a small woman, sturdily boned and clad in dull dark browns had opened it. She'd introduced herself quietly, led them to the kitchen, where a nervous Nerodis stood with Naotu.

She was incredibly beautiful. Her skin was unusually pale for a Gerudo, her complexion clear and healthy. Her hair was the same molten copper color Rabiyu's had been, long and sleek. High, round cheekbones defined a flawless face, her mouth sensuous and her jaw delicate. Her nose was straight and round, and her honey-hued eyes were long-lashed and large. Only the faintest lines around her mouth betrayed her age – she was forty-three. She was lovely, more than even Tabiya had been. But her eyes were cold.

Naotu had stood there in shock, staring at Ganondorf. The Gerudo King stepped forward and cradled her head in glowing hands. She gasped, as the stump of her tongue grew back, and pushed her former lover away.

"My tongue! Don't… don't touch me, Ganon. Why are you here?" She asked tremulously, her rich, musical voice harsh.

"That is not something I will discuss in front of spectators." Ganondorf said simply, and Nerodis directed them to the dining room and closed the door behind them.

"What business is it of yours that you are here in Mudwater?" The woman insisted, the sound of her voice only slightly muffled through the door. "Should you not be ruling your Fortress? Have you been searching for me all this time? I won't go with you, no matter the cost."

"I stopped looking for you after the first year – I had a daughter to raise." Ganondorf said sharply, "And if you hadn't heard, I now rule the new Gerudo Province. I am headed for Hyrule Castle Town, to see the King of Hyrule. Political matters, you see."

"Don't condescend to me, my good _King_. I was mute, not turned into a _dunce_!" She snarled.

"No, your weakness was never that of intellect, but rather of character. Did you even wonder what happened to Rabiyu?"

"Rabiyu? I know no such person."

"It's what I named our daughter. You didn't even give her a name before you left, just up and ran."

"I had to get _away_. From you."

"What? Why? Why didn't you just reject my advances, then? I would have--"

"Would have what? Backed off? You've been spoiled all along, what makes you think you would have given up _anything_ you wanted in your callow youth?"

"Yes. I would have stopped. A man is only as good as his word." Ganondorf was adamant, and Naotu's laughter was mocking. Link chanced a glance at Nerodis, whose jaw was a-drop, to hear her speak so snidely.

"Oh, that is where you're wrong. While you've sheltered behind those Fortress walls, I've learned much more of the world than you have. My husband promised to honor me and care for me, and what does he _do_? Squander away our savings, our pretty house, my earnings and his. Until we live in a _hovel_, and the food on our table full of rot, and the clothes on my _back_ nothing but rags. He swindled our livelihood, and for what? For playing the dice, on drink and pretty girls who don't ask him where our next meal comes from? You are _naïve_ if you think I will trust you, and eat your pretty words, and follow you back to the Fortress with a noose around my neck."

"After those words I want nothing to do with you!" The king snarled, and pounded a closed fist on the dining room table. "I came here to help you. I heal your wounds and what is the first thing that comes out of your poisonous mouth, but vitriol and paranoia. I expected thanks!"

"You expect many things out of life you should not!"

"What kind of King would I have made, with you at my side? I wonder."

"How _dare_ you--!"

"Hear me. With a viper like you at my side, would I place any worth in my women? Would I care for every death? Or fritter it all away like your poorly chosen husband?"

"You are not much of a king if any of your people die."

"You spoke of my callow youth. I loved you. What a fool I was. Naotu, Rabiyu, our daughter, is dead. Dead at the hands of the Hylian men you championed so long ago."

"She's dead." She spoke it in wonderment.

"Yes."

"**GET OUT!**" Naotu shrieked, and flesh met flesh in a ringing slap. Link heard Ganondorf give a grunt of pain, and fend her off. "**Let go of me, do you hear! Let go!**"

"I've had enough!" The king roared over her screams, shaking her into silence. "You left her to me, why should you care? Enough! You may keep your tongue as it is, whole and undamaged. But for every cruel thought that runs through your petty little head, every morsel of bitterness, your bones will ache like the very coming of winter in the north. Climbing stairs will be painful, the smallest task will seem like agony. All this you deserve, and I stand firm with placing this curse upon you."

Link heard his mentor murmur the words to a curse, not another language, but runes made into sounds that could be spoken, like speaking a mathematics equation aloud.

Ganondorf stormed out of the dining room, golden eyes ablaze. Link gulped, Nerodis blanched. The Gerudo King closed the door behind him, ignoring his former lover's shouts of rage. He locked the door with a small burst of magic.

"Master Nerodis," he said, his tone calm though he panted with rage. "That door will open after an hour's time. Now, you are owed a reward, for kindly showing us around the city, and bringing Naotu to my attention. I have payment, and a blessing." Ganondorf pressed a small purse of rupees into Nerodis' shocked hand, then fished in his jacket pocket for a vial of some amber colored liquid. He smeared a dab of herbal oil on the man's forehead with a glowing thumb. "Luck to you, unerring and swift. It will pass to your wife, your children, and all their descendants." The king pulled away his finger, and Nerodis let out the breath he'd held in.

"And what of Naotu?" The gatekeeper asked wearily.

"What of her? She showed her colors, did she not? You were good to me, and she was cruel and self-centered. I repay all actions to me with what they deserve. Good day to you, Master Nerodis, and a fair Highday." Ganondorf turned to Link. "Link, are you ready to go?"

"More than ready!" The boy said hastily, and the man nodded. They practically fled the house.

Once they were ten or so blocks away from Nerodis' house, Ganondorf let his shoulders slump.

"I did not mean for it to turn that way," He confessed quietly to his pupil, walking briskly.

Link nodded and shrugged.

"I'm glad you didn't marry her." The boy said softly, frowning as he hurried to keep up.

"It would have been the end of me, I think. I have been grateful, but never before so relieved to have ultimately married your mother. She is wise, sane, and a good Queen."

"I knew that." The king chuckled.

"Yes, you certainly do." He sighed gustily, and mentally shook himself. "We will eat lunch on the road, I think. No restaurant in Hyrule serves lunch on Highday, anyway."

"Ready to leave quickly, sir?" Link wondered observantly.

"Indeed." Ganondorf agreed, "I want to put that behind me." He sighed. "At least I found out what happened to her." He said, mostly to himself, but his heir and pupil heard.

"Yeah." They walked a little faster, the better to leave Mudwater, as soon as they could.

Within the hour, the wagon was loaded, the horses hitched, and the unusual pair – a Gerudo king and a Hylian boy – rolled out the open gates of the city of Mudwater.

From there, they would travel through Arryn, and then through the Province of the Crown, until they reached the Capitol, and the High Court that awaited them both.

* * *

They could not know, what could have happened.

Had Ganondorf married Naotu, everything would have been different. Her cruelty would have leeched into him, her frail morality withered his heart. No more would be the caring, tireless king; he would have grown into a tyrant.

Appalled by his policy, Nabooru would have left the Fortress and exiled herself, branded a traitor to her own race. There would have been no raid in the Province of Lake Hylia, no bloodless raider to snatch a baby from the children of the Lost Woods.

What then, would have happened to Link?

Would he be as happy and accepted as he was now? As cunning and unstoppable?

There was no way to anticipate, nor know such things.

* * *

1. Fairly dramatic. We finally move into the more familiar arc of OOT. Of course, there will be differences…

2. On a more minor note, there are no pigs or boars in Hyrule or anywhere on the planet Vanity. Why? The Mad God doesn't like pork, that's why.

3. Ahhh. Politics. I've had a sort of major miracle worked on me – ever since I took a Medieval Culture in Western Europe class, I can suddenly write politics. How droll. Before I had Link getting out of the politics thing very early on. Now it's rapidly turning into a complicated but far more sturdy plot. Huzzah. I try to write a circle, it turns into a spiral. Huh.

4. I have decided to not succumb to weakness and make Ganondorf outright evil. By now, for my version of him at least, it would be out of character, not to mention bad for several character's character growth through the story. That doesn't mean he won't be the villain, though! So don't worry about it. He will be both evil and good, and the same for the protagonists. Things will simply be less clean cut than in most conflicts, which makes it more realistic in my opinion.

5. Ultimately, it was Naotu who changed everything. I both loathe and pity her. She is so self-centered, and selfish. Everything is about her, in her mind.

6. I've been working on the characters for the next story arc. I think you'll all like what I've done with Zelda. More politics and intrigue ahead.

7. I will be finished with school in a week. Updates should be regular after that. I'm a nanny, so my girls will get out of school in a month or so, and then I'll be watching them 9-5, so that will curtail my writing somewhat when that happens.

8. As always, my maps and notes of my Hyrule can be found here:

http: / / rinrabble . livejournal . com / 1556 . html

9. Also, I'm putting up an edited version of the first chapter, here:

http:// rinrabble. livejournal . com / 1841 . html

It contains the new, expanded Hyrule

* * *

Reviews are adored.


	19. Sharps

Hey guys! Okay, so here's the deal; I went to a book convention last Saturday. I talked to some authors about this story, and they think I'll publish it no sweat, but it needs to be less like Zelda. One minor publisher got pretty excited - so those twists on Zelda are going to get more twisty. I was really torn up whether I should just write the rest as original, or continue here, but I promised you all I wouldn't abandon you guys. The rest of what I post will be more inspired than based on Zelda. I hope that's okay with you guys.

Inspired by Zelda, Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Of Sharps

* * *

**

A two weeks later, Ganondorf and Link were almost to Rosethorn, a city on the edge of the Province of the Crown.

Waysken, three day's journey back, had been a grimy, dirty highwayside city. Flourishing, certainly, but not as well kept as Mudwater was. Perhaps it was the building materials – sandstone versus peeling, painted wood siding. Despite iron mines in the area, Waysken made much of its income from travelers on the highway that wound through Drought Country, across the southernmost border of Arryn, and through Province of the Crown to the gates of Hyrule Castle Town.

There were four major highways across Hyrule; the Western Highway, on which Link and Ganondorf were currently traveling, the Eastern Highway, which led from Hyrule Castle Town to Loggershead in Rainfall Province, the Central Highways, a forked highway branching off the Eastern Highway and providing infrastructure for much of the Plains Province, and the Southern Highway, with forked ends that started in Crimen and Lake Hylia and led to the massive, ever-growing metropolis of Imally. The Southern Highway was the newest, only a hundred years old, and thus few cities were located on it. Not sizeable ones, at least.

Link reclined in the shady back of the wagon with a book – _Tales of the Zora_, a rare collection of Zoran fairytales and legends, unusual as the reclusive fish-people had an oral tradition rather than a written one. It was a beautiful day, a hot one by Northern standards, and Link knew better than to stay out in the sun. It would make him lose fluids, and would thus deplete the wagon's supply of water. Link and Ganondorf had wisely smeared themselves with sun salve, to keep their skin from burning. The one nice thing about Greater Hyrule on the Plains was not always needing to apply sun salve. It was a daily thing in the Fortress, just as important as washing up and cleaning one's teeth. Strange, for such a thing to become unnecessary.

Almost there. He didn't need to ask a chorus of 'are we there yets?' – no, he kept track of it in his head. Ganondorf called out each road marker – there were distance markers along every official road, one for each league traveled. The road markers were oval shaped, and were charmed to state the time when touched.

"_Sheikah magic is what powers them." Ganondorf had informed Link. When the boy cringed in reflexive distaste, his mentor added, "The Sheikah are a part of Greater Hyrule, Link. We are now, too. So you must overcome your Gerudo upbringing and remain polite around such people. No longer can Gerudo or Sheikah be enemies. The Sheikah serve the Hylian King directly – there are many of them at the Court. Be consoled, though. Their bloodlines are weakening. Many of them now interbreed with Hylians. In fact, there have been several cases where the youngest daughter of a noble family has been married to an influential Sheikah man. These days, they're all half-blood – a Hylian with only one Sheikah ancestor of eight is still considered Sheikah." _

"_So they're basically Hylians calling themselves Sheikah."_

"_Yes." Link had slouched at that. _

"_I guess they're like me, then. A Hylian calling myself something different." Ganondorf had swatted his charge on the shoulder._

"_Don't say that." He'd said sternly, "Those half-bloods are barely Sheikah. Sheikah in blood, barely. They act Hylian, speak Hylian, spawn Hylians. You, on the other hand, speak like Gerudo, act Gerudo, and are merely Hylian in blood. You are a child of the sun, like me."_

Now, Link enjoyed the shade, and the cooling breeze blowing through the open spaces where the canvas sides of the wagon been rolled up and fastened in place.

All this traveling, just him and his mentor, had been exciting at first. He'd visited Parchen, Mudwater, the quarries of Haltierty, the pine forests of Jevomine, and the streets of Waysken. Each city or town had been unique. It was a lot to take in, for a boy who'd been sheltered behind the gates of the Fortress for most of his life.

It was exciting, no doubt about it. But for all the sights, he preferred the quieter parts. Sleeping under the stars, hunting for his own food, having the complete attention of his king and mentor… Yesterday Ganondorf had let him drive the wagon for a bit. The day before they'd shared riddles and logic stories. Sometimes, when Link was tired of sitting, he ran on the road beside the wagon, stretching his legs until he couldn't keep up with the vehicle.

But after four weeks of travel, Link was ready for some time in one location.

It wasn't like he was spending all day squatting motionless in the wagon, losing muscle tone all the while. Every morning, before breakfast, he and Ganondorf did their morning exercises and battle forms. And each time they took a break to rest the horses or let them graze, they practiced free-form sparring. Link's mentor was a formidable opponent. So it wasn't like he was getting out of practice, but for archery.

Still… he was ready to stop moving.

Link sighed gustily, and turned back to his book.

"What are you sighing about? Get back to your book!" Ganondorf said laughingly from the driver's bench.

"Are we there yet?" Link muttered to himself, with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

In the midst of the night, Ganondorf shook Link awake.

"Guh." Link said articulately, wrinkling his nose. He was shaken again when he tried to burrow back into his covers. A piercing, grating _Hureeeeeek! _startled him awake, blue eyes wide, kicking off his covers.

"Shush. Don't panic." His mentor said, amber eyes bright and wild in the moonslight. "We are safe behind my barrier-spell. But you must see this."

Link peeled himself out of his bedroll and climbed to his feet. He raised his light stone and activated it.

Behind the faint, translucent shimmer of the barrier stood monstrous creatures, a dozen of them, pressed right up against the magic shield. Animated skeletons, not with the eagerly glowing eyes of legend, but eyes of void, sucking in all available light. Link pulled his gaze away from those empty, consuming pits of eyes and shuddered.

"Stalfos?" He whispered, fingering the ocarina he kept on a string around his neck. It was the only thing he could use as a weapon. They kept their weapons in the wagon.

"That's correct. Don't worry – they cannot bear the sunlight. We could wait until morning, or sleep, and they would be gone by dawn. They appear to those who stand on battlefields at night, to take their revenge from trespassers. The stronger, older ones can leave the battlefields. But that takes hundreds of years."

"How do you know so much about monsters?"

"My mothers, the witches Twinrova, dabbled in black magic. Not dark magic, as you might think, but black."

"Necromancy?" Link said, horrified.

"Yes. Come, it's time to see how powerful your music magic is. …Don't look at me like that, Link. Now, play me and our visitors a song."

Shakily, Link complied.

What song to chose? What lyrics appropriate?

Sun, daylight. Bright burning noon in the midst of the desert…

"Do not invoke the sun. It's too simple." Damn him! Link thought furiously, envious of the king's steady composure. "Turn them to dust, crush their bones, tear them apart. Play with them, if you will. Experiment."

Link tried a battle song. An old Gerudo one, from the days of Lake Hylia. It only seemed to rally the Stalfos, who leapt at the barrier, and were repelled by the immoveable wall.

He tried many songs. All ineffectual.

Fine, give up songs, with their lyrics. That left him with melody. Improvisation. Emotion.

Link put the mouthpiece to his lips, and as he played, images came to mind. Visual equivalents of notes.

_Relentless fire, burning greasily, smoke blackening the sky, sunless._

He hurled this song at the tallest skeleton, and it screamed, joints clicking, shrieking without voice, as it suddenly burst into a holocaust of flames. With a little mental nudging, the fire spread to the others. Remnants of hair burned first, then the dried remains of tendons, before the blaze worked its way to dry bone. Soon, the fire had consumed it all, all of six of the monsters.

"Good!" Ganondorf laughed, eyes exultant, his craggy face lit by the fire, "Now try something else."

With greater confidence, Link obeyed.

Thoughts of axes cracked bone and sent another flying. Images of acid, like those found in roiling pools in Northern Drought Country, melted the next creature to a pile of steaming mud. All three slowly reformed themselves.

_The movement of glaciers, something he'd only read about, tons of gritty ice scouring mountain valleys, inching along, grinding rock and soil._

He took that thought and let it unfurl in the remaining monsters. Slowly, the bones of one of the Stalfos split, then turned to dust. Finally, Link used the countless memories of mornings spent alone, watching the sun rise in the west. A bright white light filled the area, eating away at the shrieking Stalfos' bones like a ravenous predator, until the monsters were nothing but colored smoke drifting away on the cold night breeze.

Applause came from his right. He put down his ocarina and let it dangle from its string, wiped sweaty hands on his trousers, then turned, to see his mentor beaming.

"Well done, Link. Very well done." Ganondorf said approvingly.

"Why did you make me do that?" Link wondered, frowning.

"Don't you see? You've been afraid of monsters since the cave behind the waterfall. Stalfos are more dangerous than Lizalfos or Dinofols and you've progressed to the point that you can take out a dozen. I don't think you realize what a potent weapon your music can be, or how much more flexible it is in its uses."

"Really?" He asked, stricken with the realization.

"Indeed. Now, one more experiment, and then we'll pack out. It's a few hours till dawn." Sure enough, the sky was beginning to lighten in the west. "I want to see if you can do magic without an instrument. Come!" Ganondorf beckoned, and Link followed him to a small sapling.

"I want you cut the dead branch, the one without any leaves. Without your ocarina." Link eyed the tree, sizing it up in his mind.

"Are there any other limitations, other than no instruments?" He queried, sounding like a grown youth, rather than the boy he was. Perhaps Ganondorf had trained him too well.

"No. I can see the cogs moving, boy. What are you thinking of using?"

"A whistle. Or a clap. A sharp sound. It's a shame – B sharp would have been perfect for cutting. Just one note."

"No instruments, Link." Ganondorf said, but his tone was approving.

"Fine, fine." The boy said off-handedly, and took a step closer to the tree. He tried whistling a few different notes without using any magic, before he settled on a high B sharp. Focusing on the bare branch, he whistled sharply, letting his magic cut through the note and across the distance between him and the tree.

Nothing.

He sighed, and tried again, making the note shorter and shriller. A leaf fluttered down from the tree, but nothing more. Fine. Was it lips? Were lips too soft for cutting? Experimentally, Link drew his lips back and whistled a strong B sharp, this time through his teeth.

With a soft _shwick_, the branch sliced in two, falling with a crash to the muddy ground. He grinned in triumph and turned to his teacher.

"I knew you could do it." There was no higher praise. "Come, let us pack."

After a month of travel, and countless nights sleeping under the stars, Link and Ganondorf had packing down to a routine. Blankets were folded, bedrolls rolled and fastened shut around the lumpy pillows, night clothes stowed, morning ablutions completed and fresh clothes put on. Everything was loaded into the wagon, and Ganondorf and Link settled into their places on the driver's bench.

Ganondorf clicked his tongue at the horses, their signal to start – and Fanna and Sunfire obeyed. The two Gerudo had breakfast once they entered the highway once more. Link crawled into the back, headed for the crate that contained the provisions meant for breakfast. A few drops of blood were all that was needed to activate the cooking spells, and then breakfast was ready.

Ganondorf ate his meal one-handed, with great relish. They'd picked up a bushel each of fine Arryn apples and pears when they'd passed through a local orchard. Link ate the same meal as his mentor. His pear was soft, juicy, and mild. The sandwich he'd made of a pita pocket stuffed with bacon, cheese, and dried tomato. Ganondorf and Link chased the meal down with instant-made _Kalika_, the minty-citrus drink hot and soothing in the brisk chill of the Northern spring morning.

The pair made themselves comfortable where they sat, Link reading his book, _The Tale of Sharanes, Lord of Riverside, _aloud, so Ganondorf could enjoy the story as he drove. Link used different voices for each character, utilizing his ability to mimics others to impressive effect. The story told of the adventures of one Sharanes, a young man who was born youngest in a noble family, a thousand years ago, who had risked it all to settle on the Hylian Plains and set up a farming fief, in the days when most Hylians lived in the shelter of the Curled Backbone Mountains that loomed in the very northernmost border of Hyrule. The history behind the book was true, but much of the story was likely romanticized hear-say, according to Ganondorf. It was an entertaining tale nonetheless.

Who ever would have thought Hylians had begun as mountainfolk? These days most of the population lived on the Plains, the Southern people's numbers rapidly increasing, already outweighing the North. That explained why the Capitol was located at the northernmost end of the country – history had placed it on the foothills of the Backbone Range, far from the present center of the Hylian domain.

The scenery over the past three weeks had gone from red and brown desert and rock, to golden steppe, to faded green prairie, to lush pine and hardwood forest interspersed with farmer's fields. Now in the heart of Province of the Crown, the wagon rolled ever closer to Rosethorn, the home holding of one Ferrick Rauros.

* * *

1. Yes, it is possible to whistle without lips. I do it all the time.

2. Here's an embarrassing secret. I've never beaten OOT. I've never even played Majora's Mask. In fact, the only Zelda games I've ever beaten were Windwaker and Link's Awakening. But Ocarina is still my favorite. The storyline is so compelling, everything is so vivid, the music so good. OOT is what got me into fantasy. Hyrule inspired me to create Vanity. I feel like I'm going back to my roots, by writing this fic.

3. Okay, so originally, the Hylians settled in the Curled Backbone Range. This range is volcanic, and formed by the subduction of the Valjenar Oceanic Plate beneath the Ansal-Liena Continental Plate. Death Mountain is part of this range. The range is vaguely U-shaped, leading to its name. The Sheikah split into two groups; one settled in what is now the Province of Arryn, the other in the land between Rainfall Province and Kakariko. The Gerudo settled in Lake Hylia. Hylians first moved down the mountains to the local valleys, then into the foothills, settling ever south, until they conquered the Gerudo at Lake Hylia. Since then, they have taken all of Hyrule, to the very borders, with the exceptions of the Gerudo Desert, the Lost Woods, and the territories of the Gorons and Zora.

4. Because he's had more magical training, Link is going to be using magic far more often than he does in OOT.

5. We will meet Zelda and other Hylian dignitaries in chapter twenty We will arrive at Hyrule Castle Town in chapter nineteen.

6. Wow! 18,000 hits and 195 reviews! We're almost there...

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Reviews delight me.


	20. Castles

Another monster chapter. The first two bits were the hardest to write, and the last just flew out of my fingers onto Word.

There's something so satisfying about finishing a chapter. I can't describe it. For me, the hardest part of writing a chapter isn't the end or beginning, but beginning the middle parts. Whose perspective to use, how to transition, how much plot to reveal. That's the process I go through, anyways.

I'm getting excited. What happens in this chapter was what, years ago, was meant to be in the first or second chapter of COTS. Then I decided I needed more backstory, and what I came up with is what is posted now...

Oh yes, and this story was inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Of Castles**

"_Now we're busy making all our busy plans  
On foundations built to last  
But nothing fades as fast as the future  
And nothing clings like the past, _

_Until we can see  
More than this…"_

More Than This ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

"So why're you coming with us?" Link wondered to Ferrick, who had seated himself on the driver's bench on the far side of Ganondorf.

Three days ago the two Gerudo had stopped at Rosethorn Estates, at Ferrick Rauros' invitation. It was Ferrick who had formerly introduced Ganondorf to the Hylian King at their first official meeting with Ganondorf after the desert man had been made a subject of Hyrule.

Link and his king had rested for two days, enjoying the low-key luxury of the oldest estate in Hyrule. Four meals a day had been a strange adjustment – it was typical in the South, particularly the Southwest, to only eat three meals, due to food shortages. The meals were the same size – more Northerner gluttony, some men in the South rumbled about, according to Ferrick.

While Northern food tended to be richer than in the South, with some not-so good flavor combinations, and most of the vegetables vastly over-stewed, the food at Rosethorn had been delicious. The first night they were served smoked hind haunch served in a sweet cranberry sauce, the next dinner was roasted duck in an apricot glaze, a specialty of the Rosethorn Estates. Best of all, was Rosethorn cheese. It was unique to the area, aged, creamy cow' milk cheese, carefully infused with the slightest amount of powdered chirrupy-rind. When Link expressed his approval of the cheese, Ferrick gifted the two Gerudo with three large wheels of cheese.

The surroundings were as beautiful at Rosethorn as the food there was delicious. The area was heavily treed - most trees were massive, at least a hundred years old. The grass was verdant, lush, and neatly kept. The buildings were of red brick, to which glossy green ivy clung. The estate itself had any formal gardens, all attractively fenced with wrought iron. The sheer amount of greenery, the tranquil calm about the place, awed Link. It was a very restful two days, spend wandering the shady grounds.

Now, Ferrick grinned at Link.

"Every lad who goes to Court must have two sponsors, not of their blood, who are familiar with the court. I'll be your primary sponsor, but you'll--"

"What?" Ganondorf said in surprise, "You said you would find two others who would serve adequately."

"Yes," Ferrick sighed, "That was six months ago. Much has changed since then. My mother and great-aunt are determined to marry me off. I suppose I asked for it – going from failing squire, to the Lord Ambassador's Gerudo aide, to being on personal terms with a Province Duke." The younger man eyed the Gerudo King, "No offense, sir."

"None at all," Ganondorf dismissed politely, "Our partnership has benefitted both of us. And the Gerudo Province would not be were it not for your work with me."

"I suppose. Anyway, my change in status means suddenly I am now good enough for girls at Court to fancy, particularly now I have actual holdings in Crimen, however small. But since I am here now, why shouldn't I help Link? Rather than a complete stranger."

"That's okay." Link allowed, pleased. Ferrick knew the Gerudo, had been to the Fortress, loved Rabiyu. Once Ganondorf was gone Link would have someone to _talk_ to, about things that actually mattered. Ferrick was Northern-bred, Gerudo-wed, and a convert to the Southern ways.

"Who's my other sponsor?"

"That would be the honorable Sir Fran, who unwillingly graces the court with his perpetual presence."

"Duke Fran of Imally?" Ganondorf exclaimed in horror, "The one they call 'Fran the Bastard?' He can't read!"

"He's learning." Ferrick said patiently, "And we've finally weaned him off the hard Southern liquor, so he is actually coherent these days." Link didn't like the sound of that, and it must have shown on his face, because Ferrick then said, "Don't look like that, Link. He's a good, decent Southern man, and a first-rate fighter. The important thing is he's common-blood like you, so he'll teach you to ignore the slights of the foppish boors who frequent the Court."

"Great." Link said, slowly with a groan, "I'm doomed."

"You'll only have problems with the conservative, first-rank nobles. Fran is a good judge of character - if he likes you, the Southern Lords will too, and so will the nobles of third-rank and lower. Sir Fran doesn't make a good noble, but he is a leader without peer. So much so that the people of Imally threatened to revolt when some of the first-rank toadies tried to have him replaced with an outsider with bluer blood."

"That is true," Ganondorf conceded, "But I will expect _you_ to watch over Link's academic learning, not Fran, Ferrick."

"Yessir." Ferrick smiled easily.

The two men had not always gotten along so well. Ganondorf had been vaguely fond of him, when the Hylian had been a boy Rabiyu had written love letters to and visited a few times a year. He'd barely tolerated Ferrick's presence after her death, but remained civil as they worked together to create the Gerudo Province. Any dislike for the scholarly mage had turned to indebted trust, after the first year working together, the countless nights spent up all night, the advice Ferrick had given the older man in how to impress the Hylian King, the way Ferrick still grieved for Rabiyu. All this had told Ganondorf that Ferrick was good to the core, one of the few Hylians who could be trusted with anything.

Now, Ferrick presented Link and Ganondorf with a slim, bound book, Ferrick's version of a who's who of the High Court.

"I've updated it since your last visit, sir. Queen Alia has it in her head to replace all the tapestries in the castle with silk ones. And she's on a reducing diet yet again, and all the ladies are following her lead."

"Good Goddesses," Ganondorf groaned, "The frivolity of the woman. As if she's ever truly needed to go hungry. And her all tiny bones to begin with."

"Yes! Thank you, King Ganondorf." Ferrick said with great relief. "The Southern women have all found ways to decline politely, mostly. It's a relief to hear a perspective from a sensible person once more."

Ganondorf chuckled, and the wagon rolled on.

* * *

The three stopped early for the night, just a few hours away from Hyrule Castle Town. The city was vast, according to Ganondorf and Ferrick, and they all wanted to be fresh and full of energy for the big day of arrival.

Ferrick entertained Link with tales of Crimen, and of the small lands he held there, the Sand Cat Estate given to him by the Hylian Lord Ambassador for his services. The Sand Cat Estate was mostly vineyard, but also grew olive trees and a small orchard of amber fruit trees.

Amber fruit was incredibly valuable, as it had healing properties, and was a necessary ingredient for healing elixirs. Powdered, it could be sprinkled on a wound to speed healing times. Juiced, it strengthened the immune system and slowed aging. Eaten whole, the skin raised immunity to poison. The hard golden pit could be dried and ground into sparkling starspice, prized for its potent, savory flavors and various health benefits. But amber trees could not be grown just anywhere. It had to be grown in rich soil, in a warm but not too hot climate, the soil moist but not too wet. It would only develop its magical properties if it was grown over leylines, and had to be fed magic twice a month, at new and full moons.

The amber trees were short and graceful, with broad circular leaves, the fruit itself lemon-shaped, its papery, semi-transparent skin and juicy flesh a deep amber color, hence the name.

With careful but strenuous spell-work, Ferrick had rerouted a minor leyline to pass through his estate land, away from a barren rock ridge a scant mile away that no one would miss. With his plan's success, Ferrick had become a modestly wealthy noble.

Ferrick then went on to describe the local fauna, particularly the dangerous predators. There was an abundance of poisonous snakes, which the people of the Sand Cat Estates were instructed to capture if possible, and milk the reptiles of their venom before feeding them and setting them free. Actual snake bites were rare – the locals all wore protective amulets to prevent such occurrences. Ferrick spoke of seeing the mysterious ridge-cats, who hunted Wolfos, antelope, and deer. The ridge-cats stood as tall at the shoulder as a fully grown man, and about nine to ten feet long from pink nose to dark tail tip. Southerners tried to attract these magnificent predators to their woods, to their fields, as the big cat's preferred prey was Wolfos, magically altered wolves who preyed only on people and children. No one knew whether ridge-cats naturally hunted Wolfos, or were just as magically altered to prefer an enraged Wolfos over a plump, elderly deer. Ferrick believed they were altered, as there was not a single reported attack on any Hylian by a ridge-cat, and he'd personally witnessed a half-starved ridge-cat completely ignore a squealing, injured girl-child passing by.

So effective were these cats, that it was a common practice for each settlement to keep a ridge-cat or two to stalk its demesnes. Sand Cat Estates housed three cats, as its remote location was ideal for rogue Wolfos.

"Anyway, the ridge-cat is a very popular animal, so it shows up in a lot of art, particularly on the crests of the newer nobles. There's a whole slew of songs about the cats, and everyone prefers cat-symbolism over the North's preoccupation with unaltered wolves. We'll be doing something to shake up even that in a few months, but," and here he winked, "I won't say anything more than that."

"Time for bed," Ganondorf announced, and the trio bedded themselves down in grassy hollow at the foot of a forested hillock.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and early. Linked rubbed furiously at his sandy eyes once Ganondorf shook him awake. There would be no chance to sleep in the back of the wagon – eight hours of sleep would have to do for today.

Link sat quietly at his place on the driver's bench, feeling nervous. He'd never really thought seriously about living at the Capitol. He'd known and planned for it, but it hadn't really hit him until now – in a month, he would be all alone among the Hylians. Worse, Northern Hylians! For three weeks they'd traveled, and now the end of the journey was upon them.

He gnawed industriously on a buttermilk scone packed from Rosethorn – it had dried blueberries in it, then nibbled on a slice of Rosethorn cheese. Next were a small packet of walnuts, and he chased the gritty, almost powdery nut-aftertaste away with a large flask of instant-_Kalika_.

At last, the white walls of Hyrule Castle Town rose in the distance. According to both Ganondorf and Ferrick, the Capitol had developed much like Mudwater had, only over a longer time span. The Hylian King Harkinian the First, had come down from the mountains and conquered the central foothills of the Curled Backbone Mountains. He built several castles to protect his holdings, but his favorite castle was Hyrule Castle, built at the apex of a massive foothill a thousand years ago. As he was busy conquering more and more of the land contained by the magical barriers, he declared he ruled the kingdom of Hyrule, and sent much of his wealth to Hyrule Castle. The people of the castle grew in number until the castle walls couldn't hold them all. The very top of the foothill was now reserved for nobility – and Hyrule Castle Town grew first on the sloping sides of the Capitol, and slowly spread down the hill, at the base of the hill, and outwards to the sweeping bend of the Zora River.

The walls of the city were massive. Link's eyes caught the gleam of steel armor as guards paced the upper walkways on the walls. The wagon got into line, waiting to enter the city via the largest of its three wooden drawbridges.

The buildings around the main road to the Castle were an attractive hodgepodge of building styles, young and old, all well-cared for. The thoroughfare opened into a massive market square. Visiting Parchen, Mudwater, and Waysken had accustomed Link to city crowds and traffic, but this… This was on a completely different level. The sights, the movement and color. The smells, good and bad – spices, fruit, cooking meat, leather, hot metal, …and horse dung. There were countless rows of stalls, and store fronts with fine facades. The air was filled with the noises of chatter, earnest dickering, shop and stall keepers singing out their goods, chickens and livestock for sale, the rumble of wooden and iron wheels. In the center of the square, at the rim of a large fountain (depicting the current ruler of Hyrule) sat a quartet of musicians, playing a merry, sprightly song. A crowd of admirers had gathered around the players, some of them dancing to the music. Link longed to go nearer, to hear the songs they were playin, to watch how Northerners danced. But Ferrick put a hand on Link's shoulder to keep him still.

"It would be rude not to go straight to the Castle. There will be other times to visit the Market Square, and even now, we are being watched by some who have the nobles' ears, who are in their pay for such services. Look to your right – the crowning jewel of the Capitol."

Link looked. A massive white marble cathedral towered above all the buildings, its magnificent upper heights clad with copper and gold. It must surely be the Temple of Time, built on the very place the Goddesses departed the mortal plane after creating the world. It was, without doubt, the most beautiful structure in all Hyrule, and it had taken a century and a half to build.

The Market Square was so large and crowded, it took about an hour to get through the traffic and onto the road that led uphill. The wagon was stopped by guards at the entrance of the road, and Ganondorf bid Link to go in the back and get out the leather-wrapped sheaf of papers that would allow them passage, and proved their noble status and purpose. The guard gave his approval, and waved them past the checkpoint. The road grew steeper – the horses had to strain against their harnesses. Ganondorf let them rest at a flatter, more level section of the road. Then, up the hill again, around a curve in the road, and then the wagon rolled to a stop in front of a massive gateway, liberally manned by armor-wearing soldiers. Again, their papers were examined. Once the head guard had determined the papers were authentic, the man rapped the butt of his glaive on the cobblestones, signaling his men to open the barred gates. Pulleys and cogs groaned gratingly as they were moved, the soldiers urging the horses to pull on the chains attached to the door mechanism. The steel bars crossing the wooden door drew back, allowing the head guard and his men to swing the heavy doors wide for the wagon.

Ganondorf clucked to his horses, and the wagon rolled through the gate, and up the winding road to the summit of the hill. A company of two mounted soldiers followed closely behind. The road led past a well-trimmed meadow, and into a copse of stately trees ornamented with many-colored glass orbs hung from their branches.

When they came out of the heavy tree cover, the pale grey walls of Hyrule Castle came into view at the crown of the hill. The palace was beautiful, all narrow towers flying standards that snapped in the brisk spring winds. It was clear the palace had been built in two stages – first as a fortress to shelter in, graceful but serviceable strength, the windows narrow, with arrow slits in abundance. Then later, built as a well-protected palace, with the same white-grey stone, delicately matching the style of the previously existing structure, the windows large, paned with clear or colored glass. At the base of the castle lurked a moat filled with crystal clear water, paved in deep blue stones. The water probably required magic to keep it in the moat, rather than seeping through stone and earth to run downhill to join the water table. The single drawbridge was down, and the wagon rumbled across it into the wide courtyard within. Immediately a host of servants descended on the trio of nobles.

Ganondorf dropped the thief spell on the wagon's contents, and began directing the servants to where each crate or sack should go, and they obeyed. Once he was sure they all knew what to do, he joined Link and Ferrick, who had slipped off the driver's bench and stood waiting for him.

A woman wearing servant's garbed in bright, fine emerald clothing approached.

"Good day, my Lords." She said formally with a bow, her dark braid falling off her shoulder, "Welcome to Hyrule Castle, we've been expecting you. I am Ruby Yannoska, the headwoman of the Green Wing of the Castle, where you will be staying until you depart. If you will follow me, I will show you your quarters. Your things are being carried there already." She snapped her fingers, and two servants, a tall man with black hair, and a shorter, stockier man with mousy long hair, peeled out of the shadows and stood at attention.

"Yes, Madam Ruby?" They chorused, and Ruby nodded in approval.

"Tanner," She said to the tall one, then to the short one, "Chase. Get our lord's immediate things and follow us. You will serve our Lords Ganondorf, and Link while they are here. Come!" Ruby saluted the two Gerudo, then Ferrick. "My Lords, Sir Ferrick. Follow me, please, sirs." She left at a brisk pace, and the three nobles hurried to follow her, leaving the wagon, its contents, and the horses to the care of the Castle's servants. Tanner and Chase liberated the sacks of clothing meant for court, as well as the two satchels of necessaries, and trotted after Ruby.

As they walked, Ferrick nudged Link.

"Don't give Ruby any orders, Link. She may act common, but she's actually a daughter of Lord Count Galfiel, from Stonewall."

"I wasn't going to," Link retorted, rolling his shoulders, "Why else would she be wearing ruby eardrops with stones that large?"

"Clever boy." Ferrick grinned, and Link let that one roll off.

"Hyrule Castle is a large place, as you've seen." Ruby called from ahead. "Numerous courtyards and gardens are housed within. We have our own chapel, as well as a large Great Hall and a smaller one. There are nine wings in all. The royal family lives in the Golden Wing. The Capitol, with its copper dome resides in the Silver Wing. You will be in the Green Wing, but there is a Blue Wing, a Red Wing, a White Wing, a Black Wing, a Yellow Wing, and the Old Wing, which houses the Library and Archives." She opened a door with a heavy key, and led them through an open courtyard full of evergreen trees, down a shady, rock-walled path, across a cart way used by servants, and into an open-air hallway decorated with statues of what looked to be nobles from long ago, from their garb. Ruby turned left at an intersection of hallways, and walked to the end of the hallway. A large door stood, its wood varnished with some kind of dark green stain. The lintel and doorframe were made of decorative greenstone, flecked with black.

"You can tell which wing is which, by looking at the lintel. The Green, Blue, and Red Wings are residential, and for nobles only, the Yellow Wing is for servants, the Black for the Armory, training rooms, and barracks. The White is for healing and non-noble mages. The Great Hall stands at the center of the palace, and the kitchens are attached to the Hall. After a week you'll have the layout down, but until then there are parchment maps available in your rooms." She led them into the Green Wing, which was built mostly of white-grey marble. All the tapestries on the walls featured the color green, the candle sconces were of bottle-green glass. The doors, each with its own elaborately carved scenes, were all stained the same dark green that the outside wing door had been. "My Lord Ferrick Rauros, I assume you know your room already?"

"I do, Ruby."

"Wonderful. I shall leave you now, sir, and take the Duke and his heir to their room." Ferrick retired to his own room, and Ruby led the two Gerudo down the hall. There seemed to be two sets of doors for every suite of rooms – a large, ornate door for the room's owner, and a smaller, simpler door for servant access. Every three sets of rooms there was a small recess, a nook with wide stained-glass windows and armchairs upholstered in rich emerald and jade brocade. "I've given the both of you rooms next to each other. Here we are." She stopped in front of two carved doors.

The first door's carving was of the Triforce, and the qualities it commanded. Within the lower right triangle stood a soldier with his sword drawn, to the left, a priest praying. The top triangle showed a king, regal on his throne.

The second door depicted a hero slaying a dragon, narrow face solemn and sword raised, the shield on his arm bearing a device Link had never seen before – a hawk clutching a miniature tree in one claw, a scroll in the other. Above the hero flew a falcon, the Hylian symbol for loyalty. At the bottom of the door, were carved the words 'Thereo, Thrice Hero of the Endless Cataclysm.'

"The Triforce Suite is yours, Duke Ganondorf." Ruby said, unlocking the door with her key, "I believe you've stayed there before?"

"Yes, I have. You needn't show me around, Madam Ruby. I am familiar with the room."

"Very good, my Lord. Chase will serve you for your stay, and will live in the servant's room. He is trustworthy, and Southern. He does not speak the secrets of those he serves." Ganondorf nodded thoughtfully.

"Excellent. Thank you, my dear."

"You are welcome. The official welcoming with the King is scheduled for half past noon." She checked a time-keeper, pulling it from her pocket. "As it is not yet thirteen, you will have about three and a half hours to ready yourself and get acquainted with your lodgings. Come with me, young Lord Link." She beckoned, "I believe you will enjoy the Hero Thereo's Suite." Ruby pulled out her ring of keys and opened the door when with a random key. Link walked into a small room, with a single armchair and a table. At the far end of the small room was another door, with a small diamond of glass at the top to let natural light in.

"This is the Waiting Room. Anyone can get into this room if they have a palace key, but not into the main room. This room is for visitors to wait until the owner returns. You can also deny people access to this room, by use of magic, but only within reason." Ruby opened the suite door with the right key, and let Link out into a spacious set of rooms, also decorated in a theme of green.

There was a wide open room – one section contained a table and chairs, and served as an eating area and entertaining room, while the larger portion of the open space opened up to floor to ceiling diamond-paned glass window. A sofa set of mossy-hued upholstery gathered around a low table and faced the incredible view of a garden courtyard – a door in the corner of the room allowed access to outside. There was a sumptuously appointed bathroom, complete with a private bath and privy. A second door in the washroom led to the bedroom, where a tall bed, with green and gold hangings and mahogany wood dominated the room. A window seat sat below the wide windows that also looked into the courtyard. In the bedroom there was also a set of hooks and shelves appropriate to hang weapons on. Link left the room via the door that opened into the lounge room. He crossed the main room to the last room, and found the door opened to a study, with the same diamond-pane windows as the other two rooms. The desk was simple but graceful, of the same dark wood as the bed and other furnishings. Bookshelves lined the room, filled with books of intriguing titles, and, Link was pleased to note, enough room to set up his own books from the wagon. The wall hangings in the set of rooms seemed to be illustrations of the same story – various feats of the narrow-faced, golden-haired hero carved on the door.

"Are you pleased?" Ruby queried, and Link turned to her, grinning.

"This is amazing! I've never had more than a room to sleep in, before." He enthused. The Wing housekeeper allowed herself a smile.

"I believe you will enjoy your time here, then. Here is the servant's entry." She indicated a narrow hallway Link had overlooked. "Tanner will be serving you. He is a father himself, and I will expect you to listen to his advice and bathe and sleep like a reasonable person. He is not here to obey your every command, like Chase will to Duke Ganondorf. Tanner is to care for you, and keep you healthy. You can ask him anything – but he is not bound to obey you."

"Understood." Link said with a sharp nod. He wasn't exactly pleased, but perhaps some noble children were so spoiled they went silly without parental guidance. He didn't think he would need it, but he didn't want to accidentally get out of line, so it was probably for the best.

"Splendid." She replied crisply, and offered the boy a ring with two keys on it. The larger one had a simple green stone set in the handle, while the other one had the Hero's shield minutely engraved on the handle. "Here are the keys to your room, and the Green Wing. Do not lose them. Once you are settled here, you will be given an identity bauble to attach to the key ring. It will confirm you are living in the castle, and that the guards are to let you back into the grounds. The map of the palace and grounds is on your desk. You won't need it today." A tall man came in through the servant's entrance, carrying satchels of clothing. He was followed by a train of drudges, each one bearing a crate or sack. Ruby briskly directed the servants – books went in the study, weapons and clothing in the bedroom, imperishable provisions and instant-_Kalika_ powder to be placed in the cabinets in the eating area. Within twenty minutes, everything was put away, and the drudges left. The tall man stayed behind.

"I am Tanner Beholen, my young Lord." He said simply, "I will be looking after you."

"Thank you, Tanner." Link said politely.

"I will stay in the attached quarters. If you need anything, all you need do is knock on the door."

"All right." Link said agreeably, "I'm fine for now. I'm going to get dressed and go next door to talk with Duke Ganondorf." Tanner bowed, and left the room via the servant's door.

"I will leave you alone for now, young lord Link." Ruby said, "I will be back to show both you and Duke Ganondorf to the Great Hall in two and a half hours." She saluted him, and left.

Link went to his new bedroom and selected an outfit for the formal meeting with the Hylian King. He chose an off-white shirt and trousers, the cuffs embroidered in the geometric designs the Gerudo favored, with a red over-jacket. He gave his hair a good brush, and noted he would need to replenish the spell that kept his hair auburn, or he would have to let it turn its natural gold. He should probably keep the spell, Link decided as he looked in the mirror, or his skin would be darker than his sun-bleached hair.

That decided, he left his rooms, entered Ganondorf's Waiting Room, and knocked on his step-father's door. The door opened quickly, and the Gerudo King let Link in.

"Come in, boy." Link obeyed, and headed for the lounge area, with its sofas and armchairs. Ganondorf's rooms were arranged in a similar fashion as Link's. The boy plopped himself into the cushions of a particularly squashy loveseat.

"Do you think they put us in the Green Wing because we're Gerudo and green is Gerudo traitor's colors?" He wondered aloud.

"I don't think anyone here besides Ferrick knows that much about the Gerudo, Link. They're trying to impress us. I've heard it said that the Green Wing is the most luxurious building after the Golden Wing. I am a Duke now, and you are my heir. Technically, that makes us nobles of the first rank, but other, more established lines will have more clout. It is a vexation, but a small one."

"All right."

"Now come – Ruby has provided us with a bowl of fruit – perfectly ripe." Link got up, his interest piqued, and sat next to his King in the eating area. Indeed the fruit was lovely, blood-red strawberries, dark swollen blueberries, juicy raspberries and blackberries. Link popped a strawberry into his mouth, and made a loud noise of appreciation. He'd had his first strawberry at Rosethorn, and these were even better. Juicy, sweet and tangy, the tiny seeds crunchy.

After they had eaten their fill, Ganondorf put the rest of the fruit in a cooling cabinet, then pulled out a book on basic Court etiquette, and started to quiz Link.

They spent several hours doing this, when Ruby returned.

"Are you both ready to meet the King?" She inquired, her green dress discarded in favor of a gown in crimson and gold.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Link said cheekily, and Ganondorf glared at him in mild reproach.

"Very well." Ruby said, as if Link hadn't spoken, "The King will be holding court in the Phoenix Room in the Golden Wing, today. Let us go."

And off they went, to meet the King of Hyrule.

* * *

1.. Yay! Plot! I made up everything about Hyrule Castle pretty much on the spot. Complete with map of the grounds within the outer wall. The older castle consists of the old fortress, with the Great Hall, and Gold, Silver and Old Wing once part of the original structure. The Green, Blue, Red, Yellow, White and Black Wings are the new parts of the Castle, the open space was once Hyrule Castle Town itself. Since then the town has moved out of the fortress and down the hill.

2. Link is not the first Hero of Hyrule – there have been others, and Thereo has been the greatest one… so far. His story will be recounted later.

3. The map of Hyrule Castle, and Link's rooms can be found at:

http : / / rinrabble . livejournal . com / 2056 . html

4. We will meet the Hylian King in the next chapter, as well as Zelda!

5. I just finished chapter 21, and I'm feeling good. Turns out my summer schedule will be a lot more open than I thought!

6. Here's a statistic update. We've reached 200 reviews! Wow! About 19,500 hits, 91 favs, and 118 alerts. I'm just awed. You guys are awesome, especially those who review, and those who gave me helpful instructions to improve my writing.

* * *

Speaking of reviews, I do adore them...


	21. Crowns

Not my best, but it'll do.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Of Crowns

* * *

**

Ruby guided Link and Ganondorf down the main corridor of the Green Wing. As he walked, Link noticed that each main door to a set of rooms was carved. One door showed a majestic mountain range, its peaks snow-capped. Another had two knights jousting, yet another was of a howling wolf. Ruby picked up her pace, and he stopped looking at the doors and focused on where they were going.

She led them to the northernmost end of the wing, and out into a large hallway made of the same white-grey stone and white mortar as the rest of the castle was. The corridor was well-lit by the sun that streamed in through large windows, indicating that this hallway was as new as the Green Wing was.

"With the exception of the oldest part of Hyrule Castle," Ruby said, "All the new wings are connected to each other with fairly narrow hallways. This means there is much room between the new and old parts of the Castle – room for private courtyards and gardens, and a small labyrinth." They came to the end of the hall, which opened into an intersection of halls, and Ruby guided the Gerudo males to the path on the right. A large wooden doorway stood on the left, inlaid with a large Triforce made of gold. "That is the Castle Chapel, which only opens on Highday, and is used by the Royal Family every day. Come! We will be in the Great Hall soon."

Sure enough, the hall led past a set of narrow doors, from which delicious, rich smells wafted – they must be passing the kitchens, for it was almost time for lunch. At last, the hallway opened into a massive hall, set up much like Duke Benyamin of Mudwater's hall had been, only on a greater scale. There was the King's table, up on the podium. A vast array of long tables and high-backed chairs lined the hall below.

"This is the Great Hall," Ruby said, "This place is where the nobles and vassals dine. The title-less servants eat in the Yellow Wing – the servant's wing." She walked down the spacious side of the room, and exchanged polite words with the men who guarded the massive golden door on the western wall of the Hall. In parallel, there was a set of great silver doors on the eastern wall, leading to the Capitol building, where laws and judgment were passed every day by those who ran Hyrule.

The men finally nodded to Ruby, bowed to Link and Ganondorf, and pulled the great door open. The hinge mechanism was ingenious and so perfectly balanced that the doors swung easily and without hardly any noise. They stepped through the doors into a high-ceilinged room decorated with golden wall hangings.

Ferrick stood waiting for them with a tall, stocky fellow, who must be Sir Fran. Fran was almost as large as Ganondorf, with short, tightly curled blue-black hair and tanned, rough skin. He was muscular and solid, his dark brown eyes sharp and alert, his dark mustache small and neat above his upper lip. His fine clothes were somewhat rumpled, but other than that, Fran looked nothing like the drunkard both Link and Ganondorf had expected. As they approached, those clever, dark eyes fixed on the two Gerudo, and Fran stepped forward.

"Hallo. Ye've made it just on time. Ye must be Duke Ganondorf and Link, his heir. I be Sir Fran, the Bastard Duke of Imally." He grinned at his last words. Ferrick sighed.

"That is not your proper title, Duke Fran." He said with a vague smile. Fran shrugged.

"But it is the truthful title, yes?" The Duke of Imally had a thick, rough accent, very Southeastern low-born.

"I suppose." Ferrick conceded, then looked up. "Thank you for your help, Ruby. I'll take over from here." He formally bowed to her, and she returned his gesture with a sweeping curtsey.

"Pleasure," She said gracefully, dour mouth quirking into a faint smile. "But as they are my charges in my Wing, I shall stay to watch the ceremonies, if that is not too bold?"

"No, No," Fran said, grinning lopsidedly, "Course you can come – here: I formally invite ye, Ruby Yannoska, to observe the welcomin' ceremony that I be going to."

"Thank you, my Lord Fran." Ruby said politely, and Fran nodded in acknowledgement.

Ferrick checked his timepiece, and put it back in his pocket.

"It's time." He said quietly, gesturing the group down towards the right corridor. Gold was the color theme for this part of the palace, but it was tastefully done, more or less. As they walked down the high-ceilinged hall, the group of nobles went past formal sitting rooms, a ball room, several formal receiving rooms, and a conservatory. At last, they reached the Phoenix Room, a door encrusted with gold, as well as jasper and lapis inlay, in the pattern of a rising phoenix, set against a dark blue sky, the sun and moons hanging on either side. They stepped through the doorway, to be greeted by the royal crier.

"Everyone is here, yes?" The Crier asked, rubbing his hands together nervously, his manner vaguely rodent-like. "Good, good. I will announce those in attendance, and then your party. His Highness is in a good mood today – everyone must be pleasant – I would not have it ruined by mere inexperience with Court life."

"You needn't worry, Sir Jasper." Ruby said coldly. "I have instructed them on the proper protocols."

"Have you? We shall have to see, Madam Yannoska." Jasper the Royal Crier said, unconvinced. Ruby's stern hazel eyes glittered in anger, her red mouth thinning. "We begin," The Crier said, gesturing the group forward. He rapped his ceremonial staff on the marble floor.

"My King! My Lords, my Ladies…" Jasper began, "We are here to welcome to Court two nobles of the first rank, may the Goddesses bless them."

"Goddesses bless!" The room echoed, lords and ladies bedecked in jewel-toned finery, stationed around the gold-appointed hall.

"In attendance today, my Lord most high, King of all Hyrule, His Majesty Daphnes Harkinian Hyrule the First." A tall, barrel-chested man waved from a golden throne, his hair more salt than dark pepper, his mustache and beard generous. So this was the King of Hyrule, Link thought, not sure what to make of the man's gold-encrusted clothing.

"Queen Alia, of the Slainway line, of the highest rank." That would be the ethereal woman seated a few feet lower on a smaller, silver throne. She was breath-takingly lovely, and perfectly tiny and delicate, her lustrous hair white-gold, her figure voluptuous. Even from across the hall, Link could see her eyes were large and blue-purple. Queen Alia's skin was fair as alabaster, her cheeks rosy, her lips sensual and coral-colored. She wore a purple satin gown, fine gold chains hanging from her long ears and graceful neck.

"Duke Terifel Rauros, of the Rosethorn line, of the first rank…" Link ignored the Crier, choosing instead to look at all the people there, some appeared curious, some bored, others contemptuous. At last, Jasper the Royal Crier moved on to the noble children in attendance.

"The Crown Princess Zelda Harkinian Hyrule, of the highest rank, also of the Slainway line, of the first rank." This was the Crown Princess who supposedly loved books and learning? She didn't look it, a meek, attentive expression on her face. Zelda was tall for a girl, slender. She was fair-featured, with high prominent cheekbones and a straight, perfectly regal nose. Her hair was golden and wavy underneath her blue veil. She hadn't the beauty of her mother, but, Link supposed, that could be a good thing – at least she looked like belonged in this world, rather than off living with the Goddesses.

The Crier moved on to introduce the three younger Princesses.

Giada was seven, as rosy-cheeked as her mother, with dark hair and blue eyes.

Camara, four, wrinkled her button nose, kicking small feet. She was darker skinned than her sisters, with pale, thin hair.

Belisa, two, rested on her nursemaid's lap, drooling on the upholstery and idly kicking her legs. She was a lovely child, all fat and happy, with mouse brown hair.

"To the High Court, we welcome Duke Ganondorf Dragmire of the Gerudo Province, and also King of the Gerudo. He is of the first rank." A smattering of applause rang out through the chamber, and with great dignity, Ganondorf inclined his head to acknowledge the other nobles.

"We welcome also the Lord Link of the Gerudo, of the first rank, the heir to the Gerudo throne." The next wave of applause was a little louder. The Princess clapped gently, and her green eyes fixed on Link as he stepped forward to bow. He looked up, and noticed her gaze. Their eyes met, and immediately, they knew the other was completely and utterly bored. There was a calculating look in her eyes, and Link looked away. Not meek after all, he thought.

"The Lord Link of the Gerudo will be sponsored in his studies by Duke Fran of Imally, of the first rank, and Lord Ferrick Rauros, lord of the Sand Cat Estates in Crimen, of the Rosethorn line, of the third rank." More polite clapping.

Link, Ganondorf, Ferrick, Sir Fran, and Ruby were all invited to sit on beautifully upholstered chairs, and the King stood to make a speech, about 'a noble boy's duty to his realm and peers', and 'the coming of adulthood'. Link knew it all – he had been given a script to follow, same as the others. No one had deviated from the script in the slightest.

Why?

Was this all there was? Everything planned out to the slightest detail, and never improvised? Nothing new, only the same old protocols to exhaustively follow?

How did they get anything done here?

And, more importantly, how was Link going to accomplish his own agenda, if this was what he would have to do, _every single day?

* * *

_

1. Not my best, and short chapter is short. But seriously, it accomplishes everything I'd planned. And what happens next belongs in another chapter.

2. Rank is very important to Hylian nobles. Here is how rank is determined:

First rank: First degree relative of a Duke or second or third degree relative of the Royal Family line.

Second Rank: First degree relative of a Count, or second or third degree relative of a Duke's family or line.

Third Rank: First degree relative of a Earl, or second or third degree relative of a Count

Fourth Rank: First degree relative of a Baron, or of an influential noble at court – or new blood. Those of first rank typically do not respect those of fourth rank.

* * *

Reviews are great.


	22. Peers

Yes, an early chapter. Chapter 23 isn't finished yet, but last chapter was a short one.

I'm going to the Cleveland ColossalCon this weekend! Yaaay! If anyone going wants to meet me, I'll be the blonde girl in medieval garb at the Zelda Panel of Time.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Of Peers**

"_It's a knockout  
If looks could kill, they probably will  
In games without frontiers-war without tears"_

Games Without Frontiers ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

"So what do you think of the new boy, Zelda?" Kareena of Shadestall, second rank, asked, carefully smoothing the line of her newest dress (red silk, in the Haida style), which hung unflatteringly on her rail-thin frame.

"Harlan of Hillview, or Link of the Gerudo?" The Crown Princess wondered, spearing a piece of roast duck with a bit of brandied yam with her fork, and then held it up to idly examine.

"Link, of course." Gilda and Aileena said in unision.

"But Harlan is a very sweet young boy, did you see how well he rides-" The princess protested teasingly, letting the others take the opportunity to interrupt.

"Harlan is young, and fourth rank!" Aldrissa protested, and Zelda smiled faintly before devouring the food on her fork. Let Kareena worry and starve herself thin, and Aileena purge after a binge, Zelda enjoyed food, and wasn't afraid to show it.

"He seems… interesting. I can tell he is treading very, very carefully."

"He's gorgeous." Aldrissa sighed. Zelda allowed herself a grin.

"I hadn't noticed." She took a moment to examine her peers.

Aldrissa (of Hangonver) was her age, with a longish face, her hair pale, her eyes bright turquoise. She was of the first rank, and silly around boys.

Aileena of Riversbank was fourteen, with a lovely dark coloring, and pale, pale skin. She was of the third rank, but Zelda didn't mind.

Kareena was eleven, stick-thin, with glossy black hair, and blue eyes. She was of second rank, always flirting here and there, just brushing the edge of impropriety.

And finally, Gilda of Arrant, of the first rank, fifteen, and very proud of her curly brown hair and developing figure.

"I find it intriguing," Zelda said, "That he, a Hylian boy - Southern by his name - is to be heir to a Gerudo throne."

"I heard it was Duke Ganondorf who adopted him," Aldrissa said, "He once loved a Hylian woman, and adopted her son after her jealous husband killed her. It's very romantic." Zelda did her best not to laugh, and succeeded.

"Well either way, he is carrying himself well, considering he wasn't born nor raised to be nobility."

"Well said!" Gilda sighed, taking a long draught of cider.

"_I_ heard he plays an ocarina quite well. You should invite him to play for you!" Kareena suggested.

"And invite us so we can hear too!" Aileena added.

"I'll consider it." Zelda promised, then clapped her hands together. "Now, you all look positively famished. Don't hold back – this duck is delicious." She took a large, unladylike bite for effect.

"Oh, I couldn't…" Kareena fluttered.

"Aye? You'd better not faint in dancing forms instruction class, Kareen. I'd hate to be deprived of your graceful feet." She washed down poached pears with some water. "And Aileena, bile is a most unbecoming scent. Fill yourself with fruit and greens if you must gorge." Aileena flushed with shame, and inwardly, Zelda cursed. She'd gone too far. "I only wish," She said apologetically, "To see you eating healthily. You can't keep this unfortunate habit and hope to bear any heirs in the future. You want to have children for your husband someday, won't you?"

"Yes, but…" Aileena whispered, looking over at the Boy's table. "It's Danek. He's always looking over at me. I get nervous! And the food _is _good – it's comforting. And I don't know what to do!" Zelda frowned thoughtfully.

"Fidget with a hankerchief or some small bauble. A little visible anxiety isn't worth purging all the time."

"Oh, that's perfect!" Aileena exclaimed, "I will try that. Where do you come up with these things?"

"Books, of course!" Gilda laughed. "You had best watch yourself around the adults, dear Princess, or they'll think you'll addle your brains with all that reading."

"It's not my fault if I get lost in the library looking for some poetry or tales of courtly love, you know." And Zelda smiled, that subtle, secretive smile of hers, and let the other girls chatter on.

* * *

Sweat dripped down Link's brow, as he paced through the different barehanded combat forms in the pre-dawn dark. A single lantern was enough to light the courtyard his room opened into, a space which had turned out to be his and his alone. He was grateful for it – he could practice in the dark without fear of waking his neighbors.

He moved through a steady progression of forms – going through the sets twice – once for speed, the next more slowly, for power and precision. First Cat forms, then Ghost, and finishing with the difficult Mirage sets. The sky was just turning pale in the west when Link finished with his morning exercises. He walked over to a bench in the courtyard, and sat down to remove his wrist and ankle weights. A breeze made sweaty skin rise into goose bumps. Link waited until he'd caught his breath, then bundled up his equipment – a heavy, blunt practice sword, and his forms weights – and headed back into his rooms.

It was dawn by the time Link had finished washing up and had a good long soak in the steaming tub. Then it was time to get up, change into his fine Court clothes, and get ready for a long day of lessons with the other noble boys. After three weeks at the Castle, he knew the schedule well.

First Worship started at dawn. Breakfast was served two hours later. Lunch was served an hour before noon, followed by Second Worship at noon. Dinner was served four hours after noon, and Third Worship began at dusk. Supper was served an hour after Third Worship.

Sure enough, the various bells of the Palace began to ring just as the sun crested the horizon. There was a ten minute pause, and then the bells ran again, this time in harmony with each other. The first rings were wakening ones, the second ones a call to prayer. Link got up and lit a cone of incense, said a prayer to Din, and let the fragrant, cedar smoke fill his room.

Today was Sunday – which meant it would be academic lessons today. Moonsday was physical training, followed by more academia on Starsday, and then physical training again on Groundday. Highday was taken off, as it was a holy day of rest.

Link sighed, and headed for his work room, sliding onto the comfortable leather desk chair. These days he and his peers were studying the climates, growing conditions, and general natural resources of Hyrule, one province at a time. Right now, they were on the Province of the Crown, having just finished with Province of Arryn. It was mostly what Link had learned before, but there were just enough differences in the material to keep him interested. He flipped through the notes he'd taken, and the essay he had written on the particulars of mage-grown supplies in Arryn, before he decided he was satisfied with his work, and stuck it in his school satchel.

Right on time, Tanner checked on his charge a half hour after First Worship, and Link offered his caretaker a mug of instant _Kalika_, which the man readily accepted. Tanner had been wary at first, but had quickly grown to like the drink. There was no lift of energy like from coffee, but there was no crash either, just the sharp, invigorating taste of citrus and mint. As they nursed their drinks, Link outlined his plans for the day to his servant, who decided that class, an afternoon nap, a trip to the library, independent study, and then maybe a swim in the Castle's swimming pond was acceptable, so long as Link wore a swimming costume and did not go skinny-dipping - as he was sure the boy would prefer. That issue resolved, Tanner answered several of Link's questions about servant life in the Castle, and agreed to let Link meet his family some day.

The remaining hour before breakfast was spent next door, plotting with Ganondorf in private.

Then it was time for the first meal of the day.

* * *

"I don't get it, Link." Arek said at breakfast, cramming a wad of venison bacon into his mouth, and chewing thoroughly.

"Get what?" Link wondered, shoveling down fruit salad, "I'm all ears."

"Why do you let Karlen get to you like that? He's going to kill you, come this afternoon." And Arek, the only natural redhead in Link's group of friends, glanced at the other end of the Boy's table nervously, at which the bullying trio of Karlen of Rosethorn, Finnes of Riverside, and Arris of Stonewall sat.

"Yes, Link," said Danek, the oldest of the group at age fourteen, "I was wondering the same thing. He has a whole foot on you, height-wise."

Link sighed. He'd underestimated his position early on. He had thought Sir Fran's advice on dealing with critics would solve everything – it did not. Instead, he'd charged in head-first, eager to make connections vital for the Gerudo Province amongst a group of Northerners. Instead, he'd befriended two Southerners – laid-back, fourteen-year old Danek of Kelyeso in Lake Hylia, and twelve year old Arek of Heartsrest in Lakeland Province. Young Harlan of Hillview was a Northerner, but of the fourth rank, and thus barely a noble in the eyes of anyone at Court. Instead, fifteen-year old Karlen grew to despise him, and turned his cronies against Link.

Too late to fix it diplomatically. Instead Link would have to manipulate Karlen through animosity. With long, white-blonde hair and grey eyes, Karlen thought himself quite the looker. And he would be, at least by Hylian standards – his ears were particularly long, and drooped slightly, which made him look, Link thought rather savagely, like an over-heated desert hare.

He fiercely missed sensible female company. These noble Hylian girls, all they did was giggle at him, say something inane, or worse, stare. Back at the Fortress he'd been just another person, young and eager to learn. All right, his nose was a little too small, his skin too pale, and his male… equipment… pointed out and laughed at by little girls at the Bathing Pool, who were then scolded by their mothers and step-mothers for being rude. Such things stuck in a child's mind.

It was quite a shock to find that the noble girls thought he looked handsome. Karlen had noticed this, and now thought of Link as a rival. It had been quite beyond Link, why such an older boy thought he was a threat, until Danek pointed it out.

"Karlen sees you as a rival to the Princess Zelda's affections."

"But why?" Link groaned, "He's the heir to the oldest noble line in the entire country! And I'm-"

"Smart." Arek put in.

"Nice." Harlan added.

"Up-and-coming, and of the first rank." Danek finished.

"Please, Danek." Link dismissed, "So are you, and Lake Hylian Province is one of the richest in the country."

"I know. That's why I was engaged to one of the Princess's cousins when I was six." Link froze.

"Oh." He said heavily. Danek shrugged.

"So tell me again why you're fighting Karlen this evening at the swimming pond, when he has a great deal more reach and training than you?"

"Because he called Gerudo women sluts." Link said darkly. Karlen had actually said much worse, but it wasn't fit for ten-year old Harlan's ears. "So I called him a warty pillock who wouldn't know a good woman from a syphilis-ridden skirt-lifter." Link grinned at his more agreeable peers. "And that's when he challenged me to meet him 'on the field of honor.' Can you believe that? 'On the field of honor…' At the Fortress girls don't give you any warning they want to hit you – they just do. I know a girl who could knock him flat on his rear, without breaking a sweat."

"Do you _like _pain, Link?" Arek wanted to know, staring at him. "He's trained for three more years than you, and he's really good at fighting!"

"Don't worry about me," Link said confidently, "He'll get his."

"…You're really weird, Link." Harlan said, also staring.

"I'll speak for you at your funeral, Link, it should be soon."

"Hey!" He exclaimed, outraged. His 'friends' just shook their heads.

* * *

Karlen was scolded by Master Demensal for daydreaming during etiquette class, to Link's glee. After he was caught, Link noticed Karlen glaring in his direction, rather than focusing on the lesson. Obviously Karlen followed a one-thing-at-a-time method of operating, which meant he probably wouldn't be good for much in real politics.

Link was too excited after his classes to take his usual noon-time nap. The heat back in the desert was excruciating in the afternoon, so everyone slept during the hottest hours of the day. He stretched so he would be limber for the fight, then dressed in his swimming costume. The fight was due for an hour past noon. Eager, he went out into the courtyard and went very slowly through the Sand Cat forms to keep his mind busy until the appointed time, focusing on precision over power or speed.

His waiting over, he took a long drink of water, then locked his rooms up and headed through the corridors of the palace to the swimming pond.

* * *

"Hush! He's here!" Zelda admonished her friends, as Karlen of Rosethorn entered the pond area. Aldrissa and Aileena smothered their giggles. All five girls were gathered around a wide, second-floor window in the Red Wing, eagerly awaiting the fight Karlen had initiated to clear his honor. Link of the Gerudo stood flanked by Danek of Kelyeso, and Arek of Heartsrest. Arris of Stonewall and Finnes of Riverside were waiting for their leader.

Silently, the two boys squared off on the flattest part of the grassy area around the pond. Karlen had a foot's worth of growth on Link, and was stockier. Yet Link did not appear to be intimidated, and Zelda wondered what kind of secret advantage he held, if any. Was it confidence or arrogance?

A gasp from Gilda drew the princess out of her thoughts. Karlen had taken the lead, aggressively attacking, while Link easily circled out of the way, feinting, and doing his best to get under his opponent's guard. Karlen took a fist to the eye, and lunged, grabbing Link and grappling with him, trying to wrestle the younger boy to the ground. Link struggled, contorted his body in an unusual manner, and popped free of Karlen's grip. Karlen was clearly getting tired, and his face was red with rage. He typically counted on ending his fights quickly, and things were not going well. The two backed away, to catch their breath, when Karlen charged at the smaller boy, crying out,

"For the Princess Zelda!" Zelda groaned in exasperation, but watched intently. Link dodged the first lunge, stepping aside deftly, then moved out of stance, shifting subtly. What was he doing? Zelda wondered, puzzled by the crafty look in his blue eyes. Or was it tiredness? Who knew?

Karlen charged again, and Link didn't get out of the way in time. Instead he slipped on a patch of mud. Off balance, Karlen's attack sent him flying into the shallow end of the pond. Beside Zelda, Gilda snickered, Kareena gasped in surprise, and Aldrissa groaned her disappointment. Zelda herself just grit her teeth. So it had been arrogance after all, she thought sadly. She'd been so sure he'd take Karlen down a notch, like Karlen deserved.

Link rose to the surface, sputtering. Karlen roared with smug laughter.

"All right, Karlen of Rosethorn," Link hollered, treading water, "You're good! And you've got a foot's reach on me. But I'll fight you again if you keep insulting my people!"

"Fine! Fine. You're not as girly as I thought." Karlen said righteously, "But don't think you could have won. It will be years before you reach my current level." The Rosethorn heir, one eye bruised and swelling, turned his face up to the window where the girls stood watching. He bowed elegantly, "My Princess Zelda! I won this duel in your name! Bestow upon me a token, to match my devotion to you!"

Zelda smiled sweetly, and gestured urgently to Gilda behind her back.

"Gilda?" She said softly, "You like him don't you? I must give Karlen a token." Wordlessly, Gilda pressed a finely embroidered hankerchief into her princess's hand. Zelda opened the window wider, and let the small square of fine cotton drift into Karlen's outstretched hand.

"Here, good sir!" The princess said, keeping her voice sweet and musical, "A token from one who appreciates your skill in battle. May you win many more, that is the wish of this token!" Karlen raised the cloth to his lips, bowing once more.

"Fair Princess! I will keep it close to my heart." He tucked it into his breast pocket. "Farewell!" He strode out of the swimming area, a little more swagger in his stride than was usual. Arris and Finnes followed him out. Link splashed at his friends, grinning cheekily.

"C'mon in! The water's warm from the sun. Oh!" He looked up at the girls, then smiled charmingly. "Good day to you, lovely ladies and Princess!" He saluted Zelda in the proper manner, and struck out with long, easy strokes to the center of the Swimming Pond. Danek watched on in amusement, while Arek began to strip down to his swimming costume.

Zelda stifled a giggle, and turned to her friends.

"Well!" She exclaimed, "That certainly was entertaining. And now, Gilda, Karlen treasures a token of yours."

"Bestowed from your hand." Gilda said faintly.

"Nonsense. It was your embroidery on it. You cut the cloth to the proper size. It is your token, and I merely said the words for you. I have no interest in Karlen of Rosethorn."

"So you've said." Gilda murmured.

"Yes, I did say." Zelda chided, smiling triumphantly.

* * *

The swimming costume had hidden most of his bruising from his allies, Link reflected, looking at himself in the mirror. Still, a victory was a victory, even if it wasn't apparent to anyone else.

He pulled out a jar of bruise balm, and began anointing the purpling marks, rubbing carefully. They were tender now, particularly the one on his knee. Link sighed, and ignored his rumbling belly. He'd skipped dinner – there was no time to eat if he wanted to complete his punishment assignment. Master Demensal had discovered the afternoon fight, and set both Karlen and Link to complete an essay on the merits of polite debate over vulgarly resorting to fisticuffs to determine matters. Now, at eleven at night, the paper was complete, and Link was starving. Usually he would simply eat in the dining area of his rooms, devouring something from the cupboards, but he'd eaten the last slice of bread this morning before practicing his forms before sunup.

Finished with the bruise balm, he had just put his clothes back on when there was a firm knock at the inner front door of his rooms. A quick look revealed the face of Sir Fran, one of his sponsors, carrying a platter with a plate of food on it. He hastily unlocked the door.

"Duke Fran! It's fairly late."

"Yep, it is. Lemme in, boy. 'S serious." The look on the man's face was grave, and Link hurriedly let his sponsor in, locking the door behind him. Fran carried the platter to the table in the dining area, and Link eyed him speculatively. Fran was an excellent fighter, just as good as Ganondorf was, and full of stories of his time as a knight and vassal, long before he'd become a duke.

Fran laid the platter down and Link uncovered it eagerly, revealing a bowl of beef stew, and several buttery rolls, along with a mug of tea. The older man signed the sigils for privacy and silence, letting the air pulse pale green in confirmation of a successful casting, before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Food's for you, Link." Fran said, his voice abruptly losing the lower-class slur, his words crisp and precise. His accent was still that of Imally, but clearly not the lower class intonation he typically used. "Don't look so alarmed, lad. I'm pulling the wool over these Northern fools, same as you are. Ferrick Rauros didn't just pick my name out of a hat."

"I'm just acting friendly!" Link said sharply, incensed.

"Yes, and you'd better sharpen up your act, youngin', or the only allies you'll fool into backing you will be Southern ones. And that, my boy, is no accomplishment."

"So why do you act so dumb?"

"That's a long story, son." Link shrugged.

"I've got all night, Sir Fran."

"Suit yourself. I'm the bastard son of the old Duke, and a daughter of a wealthy lumber boss. I was raised right in the heart of the city, Imally that is, by my mama and the good man she married. He was a soldier, raised me to be the same, but I had bigger goals. I eked out a homestead right against the forest, did pretty well for myself. I married my wife Anna, had three sons and a daughter. I was good at leading, and sure enough, soon I was mayor of Treefall. Funny thing about the South, Link, most of those in charge don't got much blue blood, not by Northern standards. Most of the nobles down there are younger sons who took a chance and did well for themselves. But ol' Duke Breyer of Imally, he was blue. And a glutton! Him and his sons, they were all fat as a cow before slaughter. He died of a heart attack, so did his second son. The first fell off a horse funny, the last of the blood disease people that big get. And then there were none of that line but me.

"Province of Imally, the only leylines are on the north'most edge of it. You want a fast message, you send it on a horse, not leylines. It's a territory cut off from the others, and we like it that way. Times were bad, Link. The nip flies there carry the wasting fever, and the Province needed a leader fast. But there was no one of the blood, but for me. So those leaders of the Province, the civilians and commoners, they taught me what they could, and made me a Duke. I ran things like I ran Treefall, and we wiped out the nip-flies, and stopped the wasting fever for good. And once I'd gotten the hang of ruling, once Imally was really rolling in rupees, in comes the North. They said I wasn't blue enough. Said I needed to be replaced by another fat Northman, who'd kiss the gilded toe of the King on bended knee. I wasn't having with that. They tried to take back the ruling-seat, but my people wouldn't have that. Imally is rich, we can manufacture anything. Lumber, spices, truffles, steel, weapons and enough liquor to sate any lumberjack's thirst. We have more people in our Province than any other, and all of them are commoners. The Court said I was to back down, and Imally wouldn't have it. They said they'd rise up against the North if I wasn't their Duke, and they would have won, too. We'd have won too, made Imally a country rather than a province.

"But those Northerners weren't complete fools. They knighted me, made me official, and said I could keep Imally so long as I lived at Court. They said since I was a noble now, my own Anna couldn't be my wife anymore, and my own children would not inherit everything I earned for them.

"They wait, them Northerners are just waiting for an excuse to replace me. So I act the fool. Anna and my stewards run the Province in my stead, and they've declared their allegiance – they leave if I do. So I'm 'stupid, illiterate Fran, but his people will walk if he ain't in charge.' They humor me, and throw their dainty, weak Northern women at me, hoping for a marriage.

"One day the South will have had enough, Link. One day we'll get sick of the Northern nobles squandering our rupees and telling us what to do. We'll rise up and take back everything we sweated for. That day is coming sooner than you think, and I will not let a child like you ruin one iota of it for us. You are not just working for the Gerudo, Link. You're working for the South." Fran stood up from the table, and cancelled the privacy spell. "Remember that as you dally with your Southern allies. I expect to see results, and soon. Good night, Link."

"Does Ferrick or Ganondorf know about this?" The boy wanted to know, "Do they know you're only faking a fool?"

"They do now."

And Sir Fran left, leaving Link thunderstruck and suddenly, not that hungry anymore.

* * *

1. A skirt-lifter is a Hylian phrase for a prostitute.

2. There is more going on than what meets the eye.

3. For those who need some help remembering all the names; here are the notes on the new characters.

Demensal – The noble boy's academic tutor.

NOBLE CHILDREN

Karlen Rauros of Rosethorn – of first rank. 15

He has long golden blonde hair, pale grey eyes. He is very handsome, tall, and strong. His ears are particularly long, a trait desired in Hylians. He is arrogant, driven, and methodical. Karlen is to inherit Rosethorn and take up Dukedom of the Province of the Crown.

Finnes of Riverside – of second rank. 13

Black hair, dark eyes, large nose. He is best at archery. Runs with Karlen, but does not always follow him.

Arris of Stonewall – of second rank. 13

He of the comically bushy eyebrows. Medium-brown hair, average height, blue eyes. He is stocky, but fleet-footed. He is a follower, not a leader. Enjoys music.

Harlan of Hillview – of fourth rank. 10

Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, round-faced. Often teased, prone to crying. Unusually sensitive. He likes horses.

Danek of Kelyeso – of first rank. 14

Long bushy black hair, lazy green eyes. Long and lanky. Son of Duke Hylanis of Kelyeso. Easy-going, and good at leading. Competent, but not brilliant.

Arek of Heartsrest – of third rank. 12

Supposedly ugly – but only to Hylian standards. Bright red hair, freckles, bright blue eyes, and a lantern jaw. He is very good at math.

GIRLS

Aileena of Riversbank – of third rank. 14

Brunette hair, hazel eyes. Bulimic, eats when she feels nervous. Boy-shy.

Aldissa Merdanchant of Hangonver - of first rank. 12

Pale blonde hair, blue eyes. Acts silly around boys.

Kareena of Shadestall - of second rank. 13

Black shiny hair, blue eyes, thin as a stick. Very flirty behavior.

Gilda of Arrant - of first rank. 15

Chestnut, curly hair, dark brown eyes. Very proud of her developing figure. She is boy-crazy, and likes Karlen.

* * *

I like reviews! I like anime cons too. PM me if you'd like to meet up at the Colossal Con. Maybe nobody here is going, but at least I tried!


	23. Inquiries

Hello again, everyone. Chapter 23 was the chapter that just didn't want to get written! My life has changed a lot in the last few weeks. The convention was fantastic, and I now have a amazing boyfriend. Yaaay. Anyway,

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Inquiries**

"_You know the way that things go  
When what you fight for starts to fall  
And in that fuzzy picture  
The writing stands out on the wall  
So clearly on the wall…"_

Signal to Noise ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

Link wearily rubbed his face, the circles under his eyes dark and sunken in the bright morning light. It had been a bad night. Ganondorf was to leave this afternoon. Link hadn't meant to have a fight with his step-father, but all his anxieties had come spilling out, and the King hadn't reacted well. He'd shouted and raved in the darkness of Link's courtyard, gesticulating wildly.

No letters to Reya, Aru, or his aunts. Ganondorf had even forbidden messages to his own mother!

These and other things had begun to bother him more and more the longer he was in the Capitol. Where did the plotting of the Southern Lords fit into Ganondorf's grand plans? And why hadn't he been told of the current political climate? Half of the country ready to rebel was a fairly necessary thing to know! Link didn't care much for politics, or these overfed nobles, but the kids were all right, considering the way they'd been brought up.

The promises he'd made…

Link had sworn an oath on his own blood.

He was part of something no normal twelve year old would take part in. All for the betterment of the Gerudo, and perhaps the South as well, Link supposed, as Ganondorf still did not see fit to let him see the entire picture of what was going on, what was being planned.

Some of what Ganondorf had said was true. He was starting to care too much, and about the wrong people. Too far into his cover, and things were starting to leak into his carefully guarded true self. They were all Hylians, of the same race that had abandoned him as an infant, the same race that tried to kill Ganondorf so many times, the same race that had killed Rabiyu. The same race that Link was beginning to realize was of his own blood.

He'd taken an oath!

Link groaned quietly as he picked at his milk toast, not noticing the Crown Princess's concerned gaze from the Girl's Table.

* * *

With Ganondorf's departure, Link was allowed to take the day off. In a private moment, just before he left, Ganondorf apologized for his outburst.

"But for Din's sake, Link, you need to stay on target with the plan. Much depends on you."

Link sighed.

"Understood. I'll do my best. I promised, after all."

"Good. Farewell, Link. I will see you in a year." Ganondorf swung up onto the wagon's bench. "Oh yes, and I have set you up with an account at the Castle leyline message center. You have enough credit to send one twenty-rupee message over the lines to the Fortress per month. Goodbye!" And the Gerudo king urged the horses into a trot, leaving Link behind.

Twenty-rupees only bought about a thirty word message. Still, it was better than nothing, as Link watched Ganondorf disappear around the curve of the road. Link sighed, alone again, and trudged back up the hill, where a young woman was waiting with a message for him.

"Thank you, Deana." He said to the messenger girl, who nodded. Like his stepfather, Link had made it a habit to learn the name of every servant he met. Building rapport with possible allies, Ganondorf had called it.

"From Princess Zelda." She whispered, then curtsied and walked back to the Castle.

He walked back to the Castle grounds. Link found a secluded part of a nearby garden, and sitting down against the sturdy trunk of a abayla tree, opened the sealed message.

_To Lord Link of the Gerudo, heir to the Gerudo throne, of the first rank,_ it began in a firm, feminine hand.

_I and my peers, Ladies Gilda of Arrant, of the first rank, Lady Aldissa of Hangonver, of the first rank, Lady Kareena of Shadestall, of the second rank, and Aileena of Riversbank, of the third rank, invite you to play music with us this evening, one hour after dinner, in the Pheasant Salon of the Gold Wing. _

_I know you may be feeling lonely, with your father's departure. Perhaps a little company will lighten your mood. _

_Awaiting your response,_

_Crown Princess Zelda Harkinian Hyrule.

* * *

_

Dressed smartly and feeling excited, Link rapped gently on the tall door of the Pheasant Salon, ocarina in hand. A heavily muscled Sheikah woman opened the door, eyed him carefully with a red gaze, and waved him in with a calloused hand.

"Hullo," Link said, smiling as charmingly as he could, "You must be the Lady Impa."

Impa Lunastet, a rare almost fully-blooded Sheikah, was the Princess's nursemaid, handmaid, and bodyguard, all in one lithe, deadly package. Impa's paternal grandmother had been a Hylian noble, making Impa of the third rank. However, her influence was greater, because she was in line to the ruling-seat of Kakariko, one of the few cities left that the Sheikah had founded. These days Sheikah either assimilated and bred into the Hylian culture, or lived a life constantly on the road.

For some reason, whenever people had talked of the Lady Impa, he'd always imagined her in a steel bustier. Seeing her now, he was pleased to have been wrong. Impa was clothed in buff-hued leggings and a deep navy jerkin, her powerful arms left bare, her feet shod in knee-high, flexible soled boots. Her hair was wild and curly grey, and she had a short sword strapped to the small of her back, and two sturdy batons fixed to each thigh. Those batons were probably weighted with lead, Link thought.

"The ladies have been waiting for you, young master Link." She said, her voice dry and low.

"But I'm right on time!" Link protested, and checked his timepiece despite himself. A wry smiled bloomed slowly on Impa's generous mouth.

"It is the nature of such young, noble ladies to gather early, preen themselves to perfection, and then…" Her ruby eyes sparkled with mirth, "Giggle about the planned activity." Link coughed out a chuckle. She really wasn't as bad as Finnes or Arek had made her out to be. Impa ushered him into a high-ceilinged salon decorated with a sky blue and silver wallpaper with a lacy cloud motif, and took her accustomed place leaning against the salon door.

Link took in the room, and then the girls. He knew them by face and name, if not personally. Aileena and Aldrissa were both in understated green gowns, possibly to acknowledge his lodgings in the Green Wing. Kareena was in a frothy pink confection that did much to conceal how thin she was, while Gilda wore a deep red dress that showed far less of her scant cleavage than usual. Link's suspicion she held a candle for Karlen was confirmed.

Zelda herself sat in the midst of her friends, clad in a dress of a vibrant shade of green that matched her eyes, cut in the modest Southern style, all classic, flowing lines. He could appreciate the gesture.

Link gathered himself, bowed formally to each girl, then let a smile spread cheekily across his face.

"Good evening! A pleasure to meet you all." The girls murmured their welcome. "So ladies, I beg someone, please tell me why this room is called the Pheasant Salon?"

Zelda grinned.

"The old wallpaper used to be that of pheasants in the field, but it was sorely out of date, so the décor was changed, and the name remained the same."

"I see."

The next twenty minutes consisted of idle chatter with the five girls. Kareena showed herself to be a decent conversationalist, though Zelda far outshone her when it came to insight and knowledge. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, until Gilda of Arrant remarked tartly that the plan was to play music together, not chit chat.

Zelda agreed easily enough, and rose from her seat in the ring of wide-seated, brocade-upholstered armchairs the children had made, to fetch a lap harp from a table. Aldrissa took up her recorder, while Gilda hoisted a lute onto her lap. Aileena and Kareena sat themselves on the bench of the beautifully carved harpsichord nearby, their delicate fingers ready to play a duet.

"Shall we begin with 'Cradle in the Field'?" Zelda inquired, and the girls nodded, as did Link, who knew many classic Hylian songs from a book of music he'd received on his last birthday.

They played that one, then all the court favorites. The harpsichord, a newly patented instrument, sounded good, but Aileena and Kareena were hesitant on it. Gilda fumbled chords sometimes. Aldrissa was good, but Zelda was better, her fingering deft, with a perfect sense of pitch and rhythm.

The instruments were more beautiful even then their players, all of the highest quality, of course. The harpsichord was of ebony, the keys fine ivory, the casing painted in a scene of the central Curled Backbone Range, the mountains snow-capped, the gold-leaf sun and its rays spilling through the gaps in the peaks onto a tranquil scene of a mountain meadow filled with flowers. Gilda's rosewood lute was elaborately carved, the frets pewter, the tuning pins, neck, and face inlaid with mother-of-pearl, probably from Lake Hylia or Zora's Domain. Aldrissa's recorder was moons-cured abayla wood, simple and clean, but the cured wood was ridiculously expensive. Zelda's harp was mahogany wood, with delicate silver leaf accents, the strings white behemoth silk, which was a type of giant silk moth found in Rainfall Province. That little lap harp was a masterpiece, and the Princess played it well.

With at least one other talented musician to play with, Link was able to ignore the other's mistakes, and played his way through ballads, waltzes, marches, and then religious music. At last, the girls ran out of music. The two on the harpsichord began to flex tired fingers, and Gilda's chords and fretwork were starting to weaken.

He laid his ocarina down.

"With the exception of the Princess, my ladies, am I right in guessing you're getting tired?" Aileena and Kareen murmured agreement.

Gilda laughed softly.

"I'm going to need an entire jar of hand cream to soothe the blisters _I'm _going to have." Link considered this, then turned to the princess.

"Princess Zelda? Would you like to play on, but let the ladies rest?" Then a thought came to him. "I could teach you a few songs from the Gerudo Province."

Zelda smiled genteelly, and said she didn't mind. But from the gleam in her green eyes, she was very eager to learn the songs. Link allowed himself to smile a tad wider than was considered polite.

"Great. This first song is the Gerudo Wedding Dance, now the anthem of our province." And he struck up the melody of the sultry flamenco he'd heard and played at so many weddings at the Fortress.

* * *

Supper was the last and fourth meal of the day, and it was always the most elaborate. Link had played up quite the appetite, and ate heartily.

Before he had arrived at the Castle, he had not been looking forward to ten courses per meal, but fortunately, the courses were very small. They were mostly meat and starch, so Link sought the advice of Tanner and Ruby Yannoska, who directed him to speak with Kancha, the head cook.

Through a liberal application of charm, and a little bartering, Kancha agreed to have Lirina, the girl who served the Boy's Table, set out a few, healthier, lighter dishes just for Link, with more vegetables. In return, Link would procure the recipes for certain classic Gerudo dishes, to be used in the kitchens as regular feasts.

Despite still viewing the Gerudo women as savages, Gerudo culture had become wildly popular at Court, first when the small nation had become a Hyrulean Province, and then when Ganondorf had come to the Castle with Link. All the women wanted fine silks and batiks like Queen Alia and the princesses been presented with. A feast with authentic Gerudo food would be impressive, and would put Kancha into fresh favor with the court for at least a year. Link agreed readily enough, and used up his precious monthly leyline messaging allowance to request the recipes, sacrificing communication with his family in order to earn Kancha's favor.

Now, Link enjoyed a salad of spinach and lettuce, while the other boys ate wilted spinach smothered with cream and cheese. Link supposed they had had enough of vegetables, in a place where they could be grown so easily. But in the Gerudo Province, vegetables had to be time-sealed to survive the heat of the desert and scrub without spoiling. And time-sealing, as Link now knew, left a slight bitterness fresh food did not carry. The other boys teased him for his open enjoyment of vegetables – but Link knew quite well what a healthy Gerudo body needed to perform well, as every girl did in a Fortress where food was rationed to keep everyone not just alive, but thriving.

Tonight's supper seemed to be yet another ode to cream and butter.

When Ferrick had told him Northern lords liked rich food, Link had had no idea how true that was…

* * *

That night, after the final meal, Link trudged through the halls of the Great Hall, past the Old Wing, and into the locked gate that led to the servant's path which connected to all the courtyards. He hadn't had any more trouble with Karlen after the fight, but it was wise to stay of his path, especially since they both lived in the Green Wing. It was also wise to know the servants' ways. After a little creative lock picking, Ganondorf had given him a replica of the servant's keys. A quick, sneaky little tune on the ocarina ensured no one noticed his trespassing.

He trotted down the dark paths, his way lit by full, fat Luna, and blue, egg-shaped little Seles, wobbling as it traversed the skies. Seles made a full circuit of Vanity every hour.

Link yawned, and unlocked the hidden gate to his own private courtyard. Strange, his room was lit from within. Link was sure he had deactivated the lightstone lamps in his quarters. Blinking in confusion, his night-sight now effectively shot, he fumbled the key, and someone from inside opened the patio door for him.

It was Tanner.

"Come in, Master Link."

"All… right?" Tanner led an unprotesting, befuddled boy to the dining area, where Ruby, Chase, Deana, Lirina, and Kancha waited at the table.

"So how was she, in person?" Ruby, clearly the leader, wished to know. "The Princess," she said impatiently when Link stared in incomprehension.

"Gentle, graceful, and far, far smarter than she acts." He said, shrugging one shoulder.

"I thought so!" Kancha the head cook leaned back in her chair in deep satisfaction. She had appropriated Link's favorite armchair and dragged it to the table. Link couldn't bring himself to care – she had probably been on her feet all day, and, (and it was a very important and,) she had kept her word and fed him lighter dishes by way of Lirina. "So have you sent your letters to your home Province? Should I expect those recipes in two months, depending on weather and travel conditions?"

"No. I sent for them over the leylines." Kancha stared.

"By leyline! My young Lord, those messages are expensive! You didn't need… I mean…"

"I have a leyline allowance, Mistress Kancha," Link dismissed, then grinned. "What better way to promote the Gerudo to the nobility than to feed them our food?" Kancha's broad, generous lipped face broke out into an expression of glee.

"What better way indeed! You will have to test my first tries, to ensure the food is an authentic sample of your people's food, my dear boy." She nudged Lirina with an elbow. "I told you he was what I told you. I told you!"

"Wait - - what?" Link wanted to know.

"Link, it is common knowledge amongst the servants that you are not noble-born." Tanner explained, taking a seat next to his charge. "We have waited to see if you would act like any noble or wealthy man too big for his breeches. But you proved many wrong."

"Um… Good?" Ruby tsked under her breath.

"Fools, the lot of you." She said impatiently, "He's a lowborn noble _boy_, and don't any of you forget it. Place your hopes and dreams on him at a more reasonable time of day, when it isn't twelve at night and he's been up since far before dawn. If you must do so, leave me the messages and they'll find their way to Link. Is that acceptable?" The Mistress of the Green Wing eyed the other servants with a dark gaze.

"Yes, fine." Deana said warily, "But how can we trust you?"

"Because I said you can. It's been a long day, and I haven't the energy to persuade you all. Needless to say, Deana, you and I are the only noble-bloods in this room, so you might want to watch your own steps first." Ruby rose to her feet, and briskly straightened her (as always) green dress. "Kancha," She said politely, inclining her head at the head cook.

"Careful, Madam Yannoska." The large woman said with great dignity, "It is always a long day when you are a servant."

"Indeed. Now if you've all finished worrying about my loyalties, why don't we leave and let poor, young master Link get a little rest after an important day?"

Suddenly remembering themselves, Lirina, Deana, and Chase bolted to their feet. Kancha heaved herself out of her chair, accepting Tanner's help with a gracious nod. Kancha and Lirina left together, as did Deana and Ruby. Chase left alone.

"So what was that all about?" Link wanted to know. Tanner just shook his head.

"I'll explain in the morning. It's time for bed, but I think it would be best to wash up, and you may read for one hour, and then lights out."

"Okay." Link agreed easily, and headed for the bathroom.

It _had_ been a long day, after all.

* * *

1. Yes, the Gerudo Valley Theme is a wedding dance that dates back to the first Gerudo settlement of Lake Hylia. In the Fortress, weddings are a whole population thing. Ganondorf and the priestesses preside over the whole thing. Of course, a Gerudo marriage is a lesbian one. Getting married also means the women now belong to each other, rather than the King. Once a woman is married, Ganondorf has to ask her permission to take her to his bed.

2. I hope this doesn't seem like filler, because everything here is necessary.

* * *

I like reviews. I do, I do.


	24. Celebrations

So things have finally started moving to the fun bits!

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of Celebrations**

"_In each one of us  
A dream can burn like the sun  
Let's try it all one more time  
To get this lesson learned"_

Make Tomorrow ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

The next months passed quickly, and Link only caught rare glimpses of the Princess Zelda in the halls or in the Library as he went about his studies.

Tredecim, the thirteenth month of twenty. It was an important month, as the entire Castle geared itself up for the Crown Princess's birthday on the sixteenth. Her twelfth birthday, a day of great importance since Hylian girls began to grow into womanhood – rising from childhood to maidenhood starting that year.

Link was accustomed to birthday celebrations at the Fortress. On a woman's birthday, she was exempt from work or training, allowed to laze the day away. She was allowed to choose one dish per meal for the cooks to cook, within reason. Ganondorf would congratulate her openly at dinner, and then afterwards, those close to her would give her simple presents.

Sure, Rabiyu's birthday celebration lasted two days. And Ganondorf had taken the throne on his fifteenth birthday, so the five day, weeklong festivities honored both the King's birthday, and the latest year of his reign. Nabooru's wedding to Ganondorf had also been a weeklong celebration, although Link had been an infant at the time and had to reconstruct the event on hearsay alone.

But three weeks worth of festivities? This was ridiculous.

The meals for the next three weeks were determined by Zelda herself. She chose a very diplomatic way of feeding the Castle. Each day featured the traditional dishes of one of the ten Provinces. For the remaining five days, she chose two days of Province of the Crown meals, two days of food from the Lakeland Province – the homeland of her mother, Queen Alia – and, to Link' surprise, one more day of Gerudo food.

As the days wound down, the Castle's inhabitants got more and more excited. Zelda's sisters, Giada, Camara, and Belisa were given gifts so they weren't jealous of their older sister. During his stay at the Castle, Link had seen very little of the little princesses. The three were wisely kept out of the main traffic of Hyrule Castle, and only appeared outside the Golden Wing during meals.

Finally, the day had come – the opening of Zelda's gifts.

The day was sunny and fair-skied, so the wrapped presents were arranged on tables in the meadow that lay between the castle moat and the gated road that led to the city. The grass was well-clipped and fragrant. Songbirds sang in the rose bushes and trees, attracted by a magical summoning, the spell overpowering the creatures' fear of people. Golden-trunked abayla trees provided shade, their many-colored papery leaves rustling in the warm breeze in jewel shades of blue, red, green, and amethyst.

Too many presents to count. There were gifts from every Duke, Count, Earl, and Baron's respective holdings.

The presents varied, finely boned horses and ponies from Arrant in the Plains Province, oil paintings from Rosethorn, a finely crafted, elaborate animated clock from Imally, and a long bolt of cloth of gold from Arryn were the highlights. Even the Gorons and Zora came out of isolation to send a tribute to the Crown Princess – Massive diamonds from the Gorons, and a tiara of mother-of-pearl and black pearls from the Zora. Each gift Zelda received with polite appreciation, so Link couldn't judge how she liked the gifts the Gerudo sent – feminine finery such as modest silken dresses in the Amazon style, and soaps and perfumes scented with frankincense and exotic spices.

Once the presents were unwrapped, servants carted them away into the Castle, while Zelda made the rounds thanking the nobility present for their gifts.

Link shifted his weight onto his back leg, leaning against the trunk of a particularly magnificent abayla tree and observing the Princess quietly. He had not picked the gifts the Gerudo Province had sent, nor Ganondorf, though they represented the nation. Those gifts were meant to be presents from a female nation to a female Princess. He caught the eye of Deana, the dark-eyed messenger girl, and she meandered into the shade of Link's abayla tree.

"You wanted me, my lord?" She queried, her curtness sweeping the skirts of a lovely high-necked gown colored a subtle golden brown.

"Thank you, Deana," He said, nodding politely, "Do you have the clearance or favor to carry a message to the Lady Impa?"

"Not if you want it to reach her ears today, Master Link." She said, her words formal, but her expression intent and quite clear – was this a business of secrets? Away from the crowd, in the shade, they could not be seen, but they could be heard, easily. Caution was therefore necessary. Link winked at Deana, who smiled back faintly.

"Can you get it to her in a week?"

"Certainly!"

"Then take this -" He pressed a small box into her hands. She slipped it in her message satchel. "Instruct her to open it in private." Deana nodded.

"Very well."

"Thank you, Deana. You are dismissed."

"Yes, my lord." She winked back, curtsied again, and left the abayla tree's shade to melt into the crowd in that quick, dutiful way of hers. If Deana had not been a decade older than Link, he might have developed some kind of romantic interest in her. Since that was not the case, he merely enjoyed her company.

The outdoor party seemed to be winding down when a small cart was rolled into the meadow. Ferrick Rauros stepped forth, Sir Fran one step behind him.

"My lady, the Crown Princess Zelda. Please forgive us for coming so late. This final present arrived later than we had hoped."

Zelda nodded regally.

"You are forgiven. What is this present?"

"For many years now, the ridge-cat has been a symbol of courage, loyalty, and the protection of the weak in Southern Hyrule. It is a lucky man who is paired with a ridge-cat to protect his land and his neighbors from the cursed Wolfos. When you reach your majority, it is you who will be Protectress of Hyrule. And so, we gift you with the pick of the litter – a cub of your own to raise and be protected by." Zelda was, much like the rest of the noble crowd, wide-eyed in surprise. But where some had expressions of dismay, Zelda was eager. Sir Fran theatrically pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the covered cage on the cart. He reached in, pulled out a large basket, and laid it at the princess's feet.

"All them kits are borne by she-cat Yana, from Imally, sired by Elbion, a ridge-cat of Slainway. They be not weaned yet, but they will be soon." Fran said as Zelda bent to stroke their downy heads.

"You needn't make a choice today, my lady." Ferrick added. Zelda nodded to herself.

"What, Lord Ferrick, would you recommend?" She said shyly, and Ferrick smiled.

"My lady, I would recommend playing with each cub for a little, making repeated interactions so you can ascertain their true personalities, and speak with Yana's master, the honorable Heggan Wayfarer."

"I shall take your advice, Lord Ferrick, and give you my thanks."

"Very good, Crown Princess Zelda." Ferrick bowed deeply, and sidled away so as not to rudely show the princess his back. Fran hummed to himself, pleased, and placed the basket of kittens back into the cage, locking it securely. He clapped his hands and whistled, signaling the menservants to take the cage up to the castle. Zelda smiled as they left, then turned her attention back to her admirers and well-wishers.

Unwatched, Ferrick spotted Link under his tree, and slid next to him.

"Do they really need to be caged?" Link murmured, cocking an eyebrow in query. "Ridge-cats are the symbol of the South. It's not exactly a great metaphor."

"The bars are for the cubs' safety." Ferrick replied, "And the South is caged by the North, but note – it will be Zelda who chooses and frees one of the cubs from the cage. She will welcome the essence of the South into her heart, home, and very likely, it will sleep devotedly on her bed." Link's blue eyes widened in realization.

"You want Zelda to favor and marry a Southern heir, then. You want a king from the South."

"Excellent deduction, Link." Ferrick praised, gawky face beaming. "Yes, that would be ideal."

"Zelda fancies you, you know." Link said, and Ferrick's smile faded.

"I had heard."

"What are you going to do about it?" He prodded. The older Hylian shook his head.

"Discourage it. Redirect it. I will never marry again. Besides, I'm only third rank."

"But you come from the oldest noble line in the entire country." Link said, playing the demon's advocate, "You're smart, patient, run a successful holding, know magic and the war arts, are from both North and South, sort of, and she likes you."

"Link," Ferrick said ruefully, "If those were the criteria, and Fran were neither married or such a liar, he would already be King. No, lad, you're our best hope." The older man smirked as Link's jaw dropped. "Surprised? Think about it – neither you nor the Princess herself are what you seem. So mull this over. You know how to reach me – and I've been watching you - don't slack in your studies, all right? Good day, Link, heir to the Gerudo seat, lordling of the first rank." Ferrick smiled wryly, pushing brown hair out of his face, and left a flabbergasted Link behind.

* * *

Impa eyed the package the messenger girl Deana had given her, with some distrust. While young Link was a pleasant acting boy, her sharp Sheikah eyes saw he was hiding something. It seemed like the same deception Zelda practiced, to be sure, but better to be wary.

Bright little Deana had said to open it in private, so Impa brought the little package into the living room of her set of rooms. Her quarters were attached to Zelda's infinitely more expansive ones, and she usually spent most of her time in her charge's fine living space, but both of them needed a little privacy now and then.

Nothing magical about the box – there was no spell laid on it. She opened it – and out slid a folded note, and a handsome set of lockpicks in a leather case. Impa set the lockpicks down on a side table next to her couch, and unfolded the note.

_Lady Impa,_

_Princess Zelda already got her present from my Province, but seeing how I'm here and actually met her, I thought it would be best to give her something personal. We've noticed her interest in the Gerudo, and since every Gerudo girl worth her salt can pick a lock, what better way to show my people's approval of her interest? The princess should be good at it – her fingers were steady and deft when she played the harp at our first meeting. I figured I should ask you first, though – because I know the difference between the mother that bore me and the mother that raised and loved me. I know Zelda knows the difference, too. _

_Please send me word of your approval or disapproval by way of Deana. I apologize if the suggestion is inappropriate – the lockpicking bit, I mean. If you disapprove, I have another gift in mind, so please let me know soon._

_Thanks and my regard,_

_Link of the Gerudo._

Impa's mouth thinned as she regarded the message. What to do? It would be a good skill for Zelda to learn – Impa knew from experience that the Princess's life was far from safe, even in the Castle. Yet lockpicking would not be considered an appropriate pastime, not by the King and Queen.

"Impa?" Zelda called from the other side of the door, and Impa set the note aside and entered Zelda's rooms.

"Yes?"

"Could you help me with this dance?" The girl's face was set in concentration, her fair gold hair faintly wavy and free of her usual, proper veils. Her daintily slippered feet were spread in stance. Unknown to her blood parents, Impa had begun instructing Zelda in the fighting dances every Sheikah girl was taught before she became a woman. They improved grace and posture, and taught valuable defense moves.

"Which dance are you on?"

"Bird's Shadow, Impa."

"Get into first stance and cycle through, if you please." The princess dutifully obeyed, while Impa watched with a careful eye. "I believe you need to deepen that third half-step stance. Now – half-step, pause, twirl, and knee lift, pinwheel, palm out. Good. Did you feel how much easier it was to keep your balance?"

"Yes." Zelda said, green eyes bright.

"Zelda. How would you feel about learning to pick locks?" The blonde gaped.

"Oh! Could I? I can keep it a secret."

"Good. Link of the Gerudo would teach you, though I would chaperone, of course."

"Of course." Zelda muttered, "The Gerudo once were thieves, after all. Well! I would very much like to learn, Impa."

"Then I will let young Link know, Princess."

"Thank you, Impa."

* * *

"Ten seconds remaining, Princess." Zelda squinted, lock picks held delicately in her pale hands, all her considerable focus on the lock before her.

"Got it."

"Counting down, five, four-" With a soft _snick_, the lock clicked open.

"Yessss!" She hissed in triumph. Link raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get too excited. Anyone can pick a standard lock in fifteen minutes."

"Not any Hylian, Link."

"I suppose." He conceded easily enough, sitting comfortably in one of Zelda's many sitting rooms. It wouldn't be proper for either of them to enter the other's quarters, even with a chaperone. "What about Sheikah, Lady Impa, do they know how to pick locks?" He asked cheekily, and Impa gave him a stern look.

"It would be entirely dishonorable to know such things." She said firmly, then smiled. "So of course they do." Zelda snickered behind him.

"Oh. Right." Link said with a lopsided grin. Though Hylians and Sheikah were the enemy, more and more he'd come to realize they were people too. A little ignorant, yes, but not as bad as he'd thought. A soft furry head butted his knee, and Link looked down to see Zelda's little ridge-cat cub gazing up at him imperiously.

"Hello, Elba." The cat made a little chirp, and Link hoisted her onto his lap, stroking her tawny, spotted pelt. A month ago Zelda had chosen her pick of the ridge-cat litter – Elba of the bright golden eyes and sweet temper. Elba ate only from the Princess's hand, and already knew her name, and to come when she was called. She spent most of her time playing with the toys provided by the ridge-cat trainers of the South, or sleeping, preferably on her mistress's lap.

Zelda was kneeling at a low table, upon which sat the Gerudo device most children used to learn lockpicking. It had four key holes – a beginner's lock, two different standard locks, and an advanced lock.

"I think that's enough for today, Princess." Link said, and the girl nodded, replacing her picks into the case with automatic movements. That was good, Link noted, as the first thing he'd attempted to teach her was to always take care of your instruments. It was the same with lock picks, musical instruments, and weapons. A basic rule for many arts. The pick set itself was finely made, but without any kind of decoration, as lock picks were not made to be flaunted. "You're learning very fast, though I guess it could be that you're learning at an older age."

"How early did you learn?" Zelda wondered, her interest kindled. Link ruffled his auburn hair in thought. It was still red – he had learned a glamour under Ganondorf's tutelage which he now used.

"Well, I was seven, maybe eight."

"That young!" She marveled. The boy shrugged.

"Took me a year to break a standard lock though, so I s'pose it's all relative."

"Well then, Master Link," Impa said briskly, as she strode over and packed away the lock device, "It is almost lunch time, so you had best run along to the Great Hall. It wouldn't do for you to arrive at the meal at the same time as the Princess."

"Yes, Lady Impa. I understand." He saluted the two, and trotted down the Golden Wing hallway towards the servant's shortcut to the Hall.

* * *

Link was slurping up the last of his soup when Finnes from the other end of the table came over. Karlen had turned sixteen, and upon his reaching adulthood, now sat at an adult table in the Hall. He would probably be knighted after two years of serving a knight or lord. Arris and Finnes still associated with him, but both had warmed considerably towards Link once the leader of their pack was gone.

"Finnes?" Link queried, setting the bowl down, "What's going on? Something to share?" Finnes grinned weakly, and scrubbed at his face with one hand, nervously.

"You are not going to believe what Karlen has done, Link." The dark-haired boy said with a weak chuckle, and pulled out a chair next to the Gerudo boy. Link groaned.

"What has he done this time?"

"Well, you know how touchy he is about the Crown Princess's affections, right?"

"Yes, Finnes, because he'll definitely wed her." Danek drawled from across the table. Arris, who had also migrated to Link's end of the table, snorted.

"Say what you want, Danek of Kelyeso, but Karlen's a genuine candidate for her hand."

"I think it's a shame no one ever asks what the lady herself wants." Link commented, and was ignored. "Right, right. I know, it's all about _Politics_." He let himself sneer, then dropped it. "Enough build up. Tell us, Finnes." He filled the glass nearest Finnes with cold juice from the perspiring pitcher at his elbow. Finnes nodded his thanks and continued with his story.

"Anyway, the Princess has been spending an unusual amount of time in the library lately." That was actually not true, Link thought, as she now had her cub Elba to attend to, but she'd let her secrecy fall lax, so she was being spotted in the Archives more often now. "She's been seen talking to the third-rank lord Ferrick Rauros often. He was once seen behaving most familiarly with her, though not quite improperly."

"Let me guess," young Harlan ventured querulously, "And Karlen felt threatened by it."

"Shut your mouth, Hillview!" Arris snapped. "You may be a noble, but you're only fourth rank, and I don't need to hear your gabble."

"Shut it, Arris." Link said tolerantly, passing a sweet bun to Harlen, who received it gratefully. "The most wonderful thing about being noble is how we resolve our differences – with intelligence, dignity, and poise." Danek tried to suppress his laughter, failed, and ended up snorting tea out of his nose. Link and Harlan automatically handed him their napkins. "Please continue, Finnes." He added off-handedly.

"So Karlen was outraged by Ferrick Rauros, his cousin, and challenged Rauros to a duel." Link gaped.

"He did what?" Link's jaw dropped. "Does Karlen challenge everything that walks and talks? Furthermore, he'll be killed!" Arris and Finnes shot him a puzzled look.

"Ferrick Rauros may be twenty-three, Link," Finnes said, "But he's had no formal fighting training. He has a little height on Karlen, but not much."

"Personally, I think it's dishonorable, trying to duel with a gawky scholar like that." Arris added. Link shook his head ruefully.

"You know nothing! Ferrick Rauros is fully trained in battle magic. He could probably kill Karlen with a single word. Karlen is in way over his head."

"That's not possible." Arris dismissed, and Link shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Either way, I want to see that fight when it happens."

"It's in a week, in the Black Wing." Link grinned ferally, excitement in his bright blue eyes.

"I look forward to it."

* * *

1. Next chapter is gonna be fun, fun, fun!

Oh how I like reviews...


	25. Confrontations

Hello everybody! I was a little worried this wouldn't be on time, but I got over my writer's block on chapter 25, which is a relief. Guess I'd best get busy on chapter 26, hm?

Here's a little stat check: as of now, this story has 236 reviews, 102 favs, and 126 alerts. Wow!

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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**Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Confrontations**

"_I'm afraid of what I do not know  
I hate being undermined."_

Darkness ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

"Hullo, Master Link." Deana said, carrying a small platter into Link's study. The boy blinked up owlishly at her, setting his book aside. It was late, as he was wont to studying at night. "I brought fresh _Kalika_, and some snacks. Kancha has finally gotten the balance of citrus and froth right."

"Thank you, Deana. But where is Lirina? Not that it isn't nice to see you, I mean." He added hastily, and the young, glossy-haired woman smiled sweetly.

"Poor Lirina is ill, so I'm covering for you tonight." She handed the steaming mug of _Kalika_ into Link's outstretched hand, and uncovered the plate, revealing hot spiced nuts and a little meat tart, the crust all golden and flaky. "Also, I wanted to thank you for that lovely mud," Link had given it to her on a whim, thinking Zelda had no need for it when he could teach her far more useful things. "And I have messages straight from the leyline center."

"Really?" Link perked at that, and Deana giggled.

"Don't read them tonight – well, you can't because I spell-sealed it to open tomorrow at noon. Tanner told me to, I hope you don't mind." Link sighed gustily.

"I guess I would spend all night reading it, so it's all right." He allowed.

"You need to be rested tomorrow, Master Link. After all, Lord Rauros' duel with Karlen of Rosethorn is tomorrow, early in the morning, just after breakfast."

"Right." Link agreed.

"I'll leave you to your studies, then, shall I?" He nodded.

"Thank you, Deana, and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Master Link." She closed the study door behind her, and Link heard her pad across the living room, and leave via the servant's door.

Link flipped open his book with one hand and reached for the meat tart with the other. Breaking into it with his fork, he found the filling was minced beef, tomato, herbs and melted cheese. His mouth watered. The little pie was quickly eaten up, as were the spiced nuts.

At long last, he set his study materials aside and prepared for bed. Link made short work of washing up, and gratefully climbed under the light summer coverlet.

* * *

That morning, Link dressed carefully, briefed Tanner on the day's activities, and headed for the Great Hall, where he scarfed down a plate of fried eggs, honey on toast, and wonder of wonders, freshly mixed _Kalika _still steaming from the kitchen fires.

He was on his second helping of eggs and _Kalika_ when the other boys reached the table. Harlan plopped himself down with a sigh, and reached for the bread basket. Arek peeled an orange, and Danek did the same. Finnes sat down, and began to fiddle with a hot waffle. Meticulously, he spread a little pat of butter in each indentation, letting the butter soak into the bread, then ripped it into pieces to dip in maple syrup. According to Finnes, Arris was helping Karlen get ready for his duel. No one spoke much of the upcoming duel – out of respect for Link's mentor. He knew though, what they were thinking – that Ferrick Rauros would quickly lose.

* * *

The morning was hot and dusty in the nicest of the many training courtyards belonging to the Black Wing. Because this particular yard was meant for nobles, there was a viewing gallery for lady observers.

Karlen and Ferrick stood clad in traditional duel clothes – a belted tunic and leggings. Southerners added a long-sleeved shirt beneath the tunic, to better protect the arms. Link stood in a ring with the other male viewers around the edge of the yard.

"What?" Karlen sneered, adjusting his belt, "No Gerudo weapons? Everyone knows you use them." Indeed, Ferrick wore only a belt-knife and a rapier.

"I do use them. But this duel ought to be fair – and played with equal instruments." The taller man said gently, pitching his voice to carry to even the ladies watching up on the gallery. "But honestly, Karlen of Rosethorn, I thought we were beyond this." Karlen eyed Ferrick distrustfully.

"Beyond what?" He queried, tilting his head.

"We now live in a world where wit gets one by better than brawn. Military prowess is important in an imperialist society, but there is no more of Hyrule to conquer by force. There is still expansion in Imally, up against the Lost Woods, as there is in the marshes beyond Lake Hylia, but those inhospitable lands can only be conquered with technology and a hard day's work. There is no more to consume – we must now focus on quality rather than quantity." Karlen blinked, trying to absorb all those words. Up in the gallery, a woman tittered. Some of the guards and soldiers began to mutter to each other, grinning. Ferrick stood tall, and gangling. "Duels are, frankly, an outdated concept. Let's examine it – rather than resolving a difference of opinion or insult with thought and compromise, why don't we try to stick and slash at each other with a long blade, and whoever comes out alive or least injured is clearly in the right. In a duel, injury is a guarantee (unless the person who knows he is outmatched forfeits), and it's not uncommon for such fights to end in death! Now," He continued, blithely ignoring the growing restlessness of the observers, "If two common men were to be caught fighting with knives, possibly to the death, they would be separated, jailed, and fined for a disruption of the peace! Not encouraged and even bet on. Nobles comprise the select few who are trained from birth to lead the people they rule over. Our blood is costly, and shouldn't be so vulgarly spilled on a yard of packed earth. And the winner of a duel is not always correct, and sometimes he will have deprived a people of a sorely-needed leader, one who was born to guide them, one who is accustomed to the land and its needs. You can't just pick a noble out of a hat and send him to rule a random territory in our fair country. It just isn't logical. It's not sane. Of course, the strongest argument that supports the duel is that it is the traditional way of solving such matters-"

"But it is!" Karlen protested, making a sharp gesture. Ferrick shot him a quelling look.

"Tradition is not the be-all and end-all, Karlen."

"Tradition holds because it is right! Because it works, and it always will!" Ferrick sighed, letting his shoulders slump, his hands splayed and turned outward to theatrically display his disappointment in the younger boy. Link had to shove his hand in his mouth to keep down the belly-laugh he so wanted to release.

"Come now, Karlen. You needn't interrupt. Tradition also dictates that a man may make a speech before he enters a duel. After all, each duel might be his last. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Tradition. Tradition holds not because it is right, nor does it always work. Tradition holds because it's easy. They say only madmen try the same thing and expect a different result. But we follow tradition because if things go wrong, we are not to blame. Nobody likes change, but stagnation is just as bad. It's a new world out there, in the South. We've reached the borders. Now it's time to fill things in, to perfect what we do. Think, Karlen! You are heir to the oldest, wealthiest seat in the country. And if you want it to retain its wealth, well, then – you'd better keep up." Ferrick wiped his hands off on his pant, then clapped them together in a move that reminded Link very much of Rabiyu. "There! That's me done, then. I've had my say, so I'm ready for my duel, Karlen of Rosethorn."

"Well said!" A bright, musical voice rang out gaily from the gallery. The Crown Princess leaned over the wooden rail, sheer purple hair veils flapping in the stale breeze. Karlen blanched, then reddened unhealthily.

"You!" He exploded, thrusting a finger at Ferrick, "You're stealing everything I deserve! First the attentions of our Uncle the Duke, my allies, and now the Princess herself!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Karlen." Ferrick dismissed, "I'm not eligible for the ruling seat. There are twelve others between me and that possibility. I wouldn't know anything about these allies, whomever they are, and as for the Princess…?" He turned to look at Zelda, who smiled at him.

"Gracious Princess!" He hailed her, and she inclined her head graciously. "Have I stolen you?"

"You have not, Sir Rauros." She replied, voice like a bell. "Clearly, I stand here where I belong! Are you a thief, Sir Rauros?"

"I was married to one!" This got him some laughter from the spectators. Karlen gulped as he realized how far the situation had gotten out of his control. "Unfortunately, not long enough for the habits to wear off on me."

"And you have no nefarious plans to steal the throne by way of marriage to me?" Ferrick's mouth made an unhappy twist.

"No, Princess. I know my place." Zelda frowned briefly, then smiled again, the mask back on just as quickly.

"As we all should." She falsely approved, to murmurs of agreement from the ladies around her. "Lord Karlen," She started, and the older boy bowed deeply. "While I must approve of your… eagerness to right perceived wrongs, such misunderstandings are easily solved by the very methods Lord Rauros described. This duel was to defend my honor, was it not?"

"Yes, my Princess Zelda." Karlen said faintly.

"As you have learned, this was not the case. Your claims are therefore spurious." Link took great pleasure watching Karlen mouth 'spurious' in bewilderment. "My honor needs no defending, and truly, Lord Karlen of Rosethorn, a lady prefers to be _asked_ in such matters." She pulled away from the railing. "I'm done with this," She muttered, then spotted a welcome face in the practice yard. _Well, of course he would be there for his sponsor's duel,_ she thought wryly, "Lord Link of the Gerudo!" He looked up in surprise.

"Yes, Crown Princess?" He saluted her, then bowed.

"Would you do me a _great_ favor?" Zelda took care to appear fluttery and feminine.

"That would depend, Princess," Link said carefully but cheerfully, "On the favor!" Zelda rolled her eyes to herself, then smiled again, saccharine sweet.

"Would you kindly escort Lady Impa and I to my quarters. The sun is hot, and the shade is ever so much cooler." Link did not smirk.

"Gladly, Princess." Karlen paled as his audience turned away from him, to watch his true rival gallantly lead his once-future wife back into the palace, leaving him with the now rapidly decreasing crowd and the man who'd turned out to be no threat at all.

"So, Karlen," Ferrick Rauros said mildly, eying his sixteen-year old bully of a distant cousin. "Do you still want that duel? I can use Gerudo weapons, if you want."

* * *

Zelda got as far as an outdoor alcove in the exterior of the Silver Wing before she dared look at her escort's face. Their secretive smiles inescapably grew and grew, fueled by each other's mirth, until it burst, and they clutched at their bellies, laughing hard enough to cry.

"Did – did you see Karlen's face?" She chortled, veils askew.

"I… want to be Ferrick… when I grow up!" Link gasped out, grin all but splitting his face. "He went into a duel and he… and he!" His words dissolved into breathless laughter.

"He went into a duel armed with nothing but words and he won!" She marveled.

"Actually, he can use those weapons." Link corrected, snickering. "And he knows fisticuffs as well."

"Huh!" Was Zelda's eloquent reply. A few paces away, Impa looked on in amusement.

"Are you quite finished?" She asks dryly, and Zelda sobers up.

"Yes, Impa. I'm sorry for making a spectacle of myself."

"I'm not." Link commented, and the Princess shot him a glare, but it had little venom.

"I wish _I_ was a boy, and then I could have told Karlen exactly what I thought of him." The boy smirked.

"Your way was better. He knows now, and you were polite the entire time." Zelda smiled lopsidedly.

"I suppose."

"Hey – could I play a little with Elba?" He wondered shyly, and her smile mirrored it. She liked that he found her little sweetheart charming, liked how gentle he was with the cub. So Ferrick Rauros would make no bid for her hand, she knew now. Zelda could deal with that, so long as there was an acceptable prospect in the vast group of men who would vie to marry her.

"All right. Let's go, then." She acquiesced, and he straightened up, offered her his arm, and off they went, Impa following briskly behind.

* * *

"You know what, Rauros?" Karlen said, "I think… I need to go now. Yeah. I'm going to go."

"All right…" Ferrick said, and watched Karlen flee, a little bemused.

Elba, as it turned out, was on the couch in a sitting room, still deeply under, taking yet another one of those intense, periodic naps kittens and children both seemed to have,. Link and Zelda played a little music together while they waited for Elba to wake, Link on his ever-present ocarina, and Zelda on her harp.

At last, the little cub _murred_ softly, blinking golden eyes. She sat up, stood, and stretched her back in a little arch, then began to wash her spotted tail thoroughly. Link got her attention by dangling a long silk ribbon in her face, which prompted an eager swat. When she bored of play and vocally demanded affection, Zelda picked Elba up and nestled her in her skirts, stroking and scratching until the cub was purring thunderously. She quickly fell asleep, and Zelda and Link started a discussion of various local legends.

"You know, Link, I can't believe you've never heard of the Hero Thereo."

"Heard of him, yes, but not his story."

"How strange! You look very much like him, except your hair. His was gold." Link uncomfortably stayed silent, and kept his true hair color a secret. He thought of himself as a red head anyways. He was only blonde for a few moments when the spell faded away every two months.

"Hunh!" He replied, and she smiled back, fiddling with her hair veil.

"Would you like me to tell you the legend of Thereo, Thrice Hero of Hyrule?" Zelda asked.

"I think I would enjoy it, so yes, by all means, Princess." She smiled.

"Very well. Thereo was born Thereo of the Streets, in a land far, far beyond the borders of Hyrule…"

* * *

1. I made most of this chapter up on the fly. Yay me.

2. Also, there really was supposed to be a duel, but Ferrick's not supposed to be that badass, and really, it was far more fun to just talk like he wanted to.

3. Karlen is a bully, and a little dense and stuffy, but he's not evil. I hope he's learned a lesson to remember. We'll see…

4. Funny thing, I have the hardest time getting my parents to read this, even though they're my biggest fans. Hmm…

5. Next chapter we will finally hear about Thereo, the mysterious hero who Link resembles.

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I like reviews. I do, I do.


	26. Legends

Hello everyone! I will be taking a road trip to Wisconsin for the next ten days. I will bring my laptop and write when I can, but I make no guarantees. It may be two to three weeks until the next update. I apologize.

As of now, the story stats are: 242 reviews, 27,000 hits, 103 favs, and 131 alerts.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: Of Legends**

"_I did not miss you much  
I did not suffer  
What did not kill me  
Just made me tougher"_

Ghost Story ~ Sting

* * *

The Hero Thereo was born Thereo of the Streets, in a land far, far beyond the borders of Hyrule. This land was called Ansalia, and that country was bordered by a vast lake called the One Ocean on three ends, and by the Lazul River.

He was born to a commoner family in a crowded city, a place where torrents of rain promptly fell everyday at high noon. An outbreak of cholera killed his family, and Thereo was raised to manhood by a retired soldier.

The land in which he lived, the great expanse of the world outside Hyrule's impenetrable borders, was wracked with perpetual wars. One country would defeat and devour a neighbor, yet another would split into two after a long revolution of secession. Heroes in this vast world were common, and unappreciated for all their number.

A younger prince of Ansalia was kidnapped by the evil king of a nearby country. A select, elite group of knights, warriors and mages were chosen to bring the Prince Jerod back to Ansalia and to safety. Of the group, Thereo's guardian was one of them. There was no other place for the boy to go. He was taken along. One of the best wizards in the questing party brought his apprentice with him. This boy, Kamiarn Malakarn, quickly became friends with Thereo. They were handsome boys, Thereo with hair of gold, and eyes of cobalt, Kamiarn with hair dark as the night, and eyes an eerie golden.

This party travelled long to the treacherous country of Ybol, through snowy mountain ranges, across a country where the sun never set and each person's skin was the color of gold, and deep into the heart of a frosty wasteland, where the King of Ybol's fortress lay. Almost half of the rescue party perished on the way, and it was Thereo and Kamiarn who led the final attack and saved their prince.

The journey back was easier as they could raft down the Lazul River, but just as dangerous for the sirens and krakens dwelling in it. By the time the Prince was returned to the Ansalian Royal Family, three and a half years had passed, and the party was only seven of the original twenty. The triumphant survivors were hailed as heroes, but Thereo and Kamiarn, no longer apprentices, had travelled too far and seen too much to wish to serve the government in any fashion. Instead, they chose to wander Ansalia, with quests here and there for the Ansalian King's pleasure.

Kamiarn discovered the existence of a very select, secret school of magic, and went to study there for five years, leaving Thereo behind. The hero continued to travel aimlessly, searching for a cause, when he stumbled through the barriers of Hyrule, leaving the outside world behind. That was three hundred years ago.

Hyrule was suffering then, for the dragons in the Curled Backbone Mountains had multiplied ferociously, and they preferred Hylians as their prey. With so many dragons living, the dreaded Dragonmen were awakened from their spell-sleep.

The Dragonmen were monstrous, manlike creatures, believed to be a result of interbreeding of Lizalfos, the smaller varieties of dragons, and finally of unwilling Hylian women stolen from their homes by the lizard-dragon hybrids. The unnatural result had been the Dragonmen – handsome eight-foot tall men, with eyes of fire and teeth like needles, with clawed fingers and the ability to control dragons to do their monstrous whims.

Twice before had the dragons returned, and with them, the Dragonmen. Twice before the Sages of the Barrier Temples joined together to send them back into sleep before the creatures could take over the country. Once the Dragonmen slept, the dragons themselves reverted to mindless beasts, and could be hunted down and slaughtered.

Thereo had dealt with dragons many times before, but never Dragonmen. At first he organized slaying parties from available soldiers and citizens to combat the great fire-lizards. It was not enough - for the dragons were controlled by the far more clever men-monsters.

At last the Foreigner encountered a Dragonman, and finally killed it, barely escaping the battle with his life. He set King Harkinian the Tenth's mages and scholars to studying the body, hoping they would learn its secrets. As they picked apart the monster's carcass, word came that one of the King's daughters had been taken. Thereo, who had come into Harkinian X's favor through his efforts to wipe of the dragon problem, was expected to immediately go to her rescue. He refused, and sent two troops to serve in his place. Enraged, the King banished the Foreigner from the Castle. Thereo continued to collaborate with the set of men analyzing, and his efforts paid off – the scholars found the Dragonmen would die when pierced with bronze blades.

Immediately, Thereo set his people to forging bronze swords, spears, and arrow heads. In the four years he'd spent in Hyrule, slaying dragons and fighting Dragonmen, Thereo had developed a following that ignored the King's decree to shun the Foreigner. When his people were suitably armed, they marched on the Dragonman fortress at Mount Baylo, in the western Curled Backbone Range. Half of the thousand-strong army was killed by dragons before they breached the fortress walls, but then the much-weaker Dragonmen were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Hylians, and quickly fell under the bite of bronze weapons. Thereo himself slew the Dragonman chieftain, and led the stolen Princess to safety.

She was brought back to Hyrule Castle by two of the Foreigner's right-hand men, forcing King Harkinian X to apologize to Thereo. But it was too late for that. Thereo searched the land for every last Dragonmen, and when he was satisfied they were eliminated for good, he found his way out of Hyrule, and left our country for the more familiar world beyond its borders.

He spent the next decades thwarting the plans of his old comrade Kamiarn, who had turned to evil ways in the four years Thereo had spent in Hyrule. Through a boon of the outsider god referred to as the Mad God by those who lived beyond the safety of Hyrule, Kamiarn had been granted immortality. All that was required in turn was a century of service to the insane God. Thereo desperately tried to bring his closest friend to the path of good, to no avail. But Kamiarn never managed to shake Thereo off, never managed to kill the ever-present thorn in his side.

We know this because twenty-seven years after defeating the Dragonmen, Thereo the Foreigner returned to Hyrule.

One of the mages, the Lord Albycon, who had helped discover the weakness of the Dragonmen, had gone rogue in the time Thereo was gone. Utilizing the secrets he had found from the Dragonmen corpses, their fortress, and other, unknown findings, he resurrected an army of the dead, and conquered Hyrule, killing young King Angres who had just risen to the throne with his father's death.

With the new regime reigning, Albycon raised taxes and began to wipe out the towns that refused to pay up. Hordes of stalfos, redead, and poes swarmed over the land, wrecking havoc.

It was to this that Thereo returned, as he searched for a way to save the Dark Lord Kamiarn from himself. Only to face another Dark Lord altogether.

Thereo called up his former followers, but they had grown old as he had not, and many of the more renowned ones had been killed by pre-emptive strikes from Albycon. He recruited a band of twelve mercenaries, and began to lead counter-attacks on Albycon's outposts. One day, a woman mage by the name of Aldra Versimmon approached Thereo in hopes of working together to defeat the Dark Lord.

She was as beautiful as she was wise, with dark hair and eyes of jade. She had been consecrated to the Goddesses as a child, and with the death of her master the High Priest, she became the Guardian of the Chamber of Time. When Lord Albycon became King, she took a piece of the Triforce for herself – the Triforce of Wisdom, and sealed the Chamber with a temporary seal. To Thereo, she offered the Triforce of Courage, in exchange for his heart. He willingly gave it to her, for he found her as beautiful as the dusk before nightfall.

Together they rallied an army of Hylians, Sheikah, Gorons, Deku, and Zora, and defeated the undead army of Albycon's. But Albycon was powerful even alone, and the Hyrulean army had taken heavy losses. Thereo and Aldra, along with the Chief of the Gorons and two assassins from Hyra in Arryn, took on the Dark Lord, and finally, Albycon was slain by poison and Thereo's blade of star-steel.

When the fighting was over, the enemy and Albycon's bodies were burned and their ashes scattered on the winds.

Many individuals from the united races remained to rebuild Hyrule. In the years that followed, Thereo and Aldra married, and relinquished their pieces of the Triforce. They also had the foresight to construct a better barrier to safely keep the Triforce out of interfering hands. A drop of blood from each of the six races sealed the massive door that blocked off the Chamber of Time. Furthermore, Thereo's star-steel sword served as a key to the Triforce, requiring a sacrifice of life from one who would remove it to open the way to the Triforce.

Hyrule was now kingless, so Halbers, the next in line for the throne, came out of hiding and took up the kingship.

Thereo remained in Hyrule for twelve years to help rebuild the country. When Hyrule could survive without him, he collected six drops of blood from each race, opened the way to the Triforce, and made a wish on the golden triangles. He wished for immortality, and it was granted. He sealed the Sacred Realm, the Chamber, and the Door of Time. Then he disappeared again, not to be seen in Hyrule for a hundred years.

Aldra waited for him, but grew old and died before Thereo returned.

After leaving Hyrule, the Foreigner returned to his native Ansalia, to fight Kamiarn once more. They struggled for decades upon decades, both immortal, before Thereo finally defeated Kamiarn. Thereo then turned his intentions to the black-haired enchantress Mia, who was also immortal. Exactly one hundred years after Kamiarn had become immortal and pledged himself to the Mad God, Thereo succeeded in earning Mia's loyalty, and she changed sides, attaching herself to him, ready to serve him in whatever way she could. But he did not forget Aldra.

They wandered the world together, saving kingdoms and earning glory in their quest for adventure. Fifty years ago, Thereo set his sights on Hyrule once more. Our country was suffering a blight of crops, spread by a fungus the mages couldn't seem to overcome. Following the fungus came a curse of Peahats attracted to the spores. Mia was greatly weakened by passing through the barriers of Hyrule, but did her best to analyze the fungus and remedy the blight while Thereo gathered and trained men to destroy the Peahats. The pair was successful in both endeavors, and Hyrule was safe once more.

Thereo and Mia wandered Hyrule for years after the blight. A year later a Baron's daughter was kidnapped, and they rescued her and returned her safely to her father. When the pair tired of wandering, they settled in the wilderness of the old Imally border. They were seen here and there in the following years, and then Mia disappeared altogether. It is believed she left Hyrule for reasons unknown. Thereo continued to make appearances here and there.

He was last confirmed seen in Haltierty, in Drought Country, organizing local men to beat back wildfires during a year of heavy drought in the area, twenty years ago. Since then, people have only reported rumors and fleeting glimpses of the Foreigner Thereo, Thrice Hero of Hyrule.

But even the rumors died off, about fifteen to thirteen years ago.

And the last rumored sighting was in Lake Hylia.

I recall hearing you were born in Lake Hylia, Link.

You really do look like him…

* * *

1. For those who are wondering, Thereo is pronounced 'Thuh – ray- oh'. And I discovered it's one letter short of the anagram 'the hero.' Huh.

2. Apologies for the massive explosion of complete and utter OC-focus. It was in fact, quite necessary. After all, Thereo is not dead, simply missing…

3. I hope this gives you all yet another thing to mull over.

4. Also, any discrepancies in the legend are there because it was passed down the generations, not due to any consistency problems on the writer's part. So there. XP

* * *

I like reviews. I do, I do...


	27. Broken Things

Hello everybody! I am still in the thralls of my vacation, but since I managed to finish Chapter 27 tonight, I decided to post tonight. Things are getting exciting soon!

As always, thanks to everyone reading and reviewing, especially those of you who are new and still review every chapter. I really love knowing what everyone thinks throughout the story.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Broken Things**

"_Man, I'm losing sound and sight  
Of all those who can tell me wrong from right  
When all things beautiful and bright  
Sink in the night  
Yet there's still something in my heart  
That can find a way  
To make a start…"_

Signal to Noise ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

Link eyed Zelda warily.

"…You think I'm related to Thereo, don't you." Zelda flushed.

"I was merely pointing out certain similarities, Link." Link sighed, and leaned back into the soft pillows on the couch.

"Look, Princess – I already have a mother."

"And what of a father?" She wanted to know, and Link briefly thought of Ganondorf. But he didn't really count, did he?

"Gerudos don't need fathers." He finally said, and Zelda's face fell.

"Oh." She said softly.

They both jumped as there was a crash from the side table as Elba tried to jump up onto it. Despite being a kitten, Elba was already getting large.

"Oh, Link." Zelda exclaimed, pushing Elba out of the way, "I am so very sorry."

His ocarina, his lovely little green ocarina, lay in ceramic shards on the stone floor.

"It's all right, Zelda." He heard himself say faintly, "It is isn't my only one." Just his favorite. The one he'd had all his life, the one made by Sariya, all the way from the Lost Woods. "It was getting too small for me, anyway." Link tried on a smile, but couldn't keep it from twisting into a grimace.

Softly, a melodious chime rang from a wall clock. Link glanced at it, then stood.

"I need to get to class, Princess." He said quietly, and gathered up the shattered shell of his ocarina.

"Class?" She queried, tilting her head. Link nodded.

"Yeah. I'll see you later, Zel." He said absently, saluted her casually, and left. Zelda watched him shut the pale wood door behind him with an expression that was part surprise, part pleasure with what he had called her. Part dismay her dear little pet had broken her closest friend's dearest possession.

* * *

That afternoon, between dinner and supper, Link read his leyline messages.

Reya and Aru were doing well in their studies under his mother. In their spare time, Reya was allowed to begin training horses, while Aru took instruction from one of the best warriors in the Fortress. More exciting was the news that Sir Fran had owed Ganondorf a few favors and repaid it by sending an inventor to the Fortress to build Reya a simple false leg of a metal that was durable, waterproof, and lightweight. To his cousin's delight, the man had included a hollow that could conceal weapons.

More saddening, Aru's great-aunt had succumbed to age, leaving Link's agemate homeless. She now slept in Link's old room. Aru was welcome to it, Link thought - he wasn't using it now.

Nabooru's message was full of careful wording that gave away very little. What she did with her time was not safe to speak of over the leylines, so she waxed rhapsodic over the weather, and the little inconsequential goings-on she could come up with that were not secret. Despite these limits, she still managed to write a full scroll's-worth message.

Ganondorf's message was brief.

_You are doing well. Keep it up. I will be arriving in the Capitol in six month's time. Be ready.

* * *

_

A week passed with only a few messages from Zelda sent by way of Deana. As much as Link enjoyed her company, his studies kept him busy.

It was late after a trip to the library for a research paper that Link heard it, walking through the dark maze of outdoor corridors between the courtyards. Faintly, someone crying. No, not crying – someone sobbing their heart out.

Intrigued, he set his books down in a hidden alcove, and followed the sound. Down dark paths, up a hill, past a small, gurgling brook, and nearly into the path of a dozen armored soldiers. Link stopped just in time to go unnoticed. Why were there soldiers within the palace grounds, between courtyards? He must be very close to the private courtyards of the Golden Wing.

His ever-present light stone long since doused, his night-sight had adjusted. He pulled his shoes off – their hard soles would give him away – and tucked them in his sash. Link used his sharp hearing to follow the men, figuring out their patrol route, their numbers, and their locations.

Link gulped, made the sign for luck, and snuck his way past the guards.

He padded away into the dark, past a curtain of moss, to an elaborately carved stone screen. The carvings were substantial, and made easy, stable hand and foot holds.

It was Zelda who was crying. This close, he could recognize her voice, despite the harsh, anguished tones.

The noise turned to words.

"—Just take me from this place, Impa! I'll go anywhere! I'll work hard all day, I'll go hungry in the lean times. I'll work until my hands are calloused and raw, and every night's sleep is a relief! No. No, I know you took an oath, Impa, not to do such things. A blood oath." Impa's voice sounded, too low to make out, soft and soothing as he'd never heard her. "I just can't go back to pretending, Impa. Not this time. Queen Alia had no right, it was only a little scratch, and Elba is so well-behaved. But-!" A sob.

"My little girl… My little dear… They could have sent her to the South, or to Link," He flinched on his perch on the wall, but the shadows concealed him. He tucked himself into a crevice where no one could see him, even in full daylight. "Link would have taken her, I'm sure of it. But they didn't, even though it was easy to do so. They killed Elba, Impa, because she was still a baby, and got frightened on my lap. And it won't even scar, the doctor said. I can't forgive it. I won't…

"And don't give me that! You're my _real_ mother, not that vapid woman. All she ever did was have me, give me presents, and dress me up like a doll when I was little and she felt like it. Hardly a mother. And you know what she does with Giada, Camara, and Belisa? They haven't had the same nursemaid for at least six month's time. Giada would make an excellent artist if they allowed her the training, and Camara and Belisa are so spoiled they won't even make good nobles. Their caretakers spoil them because it keeps them quiet temporarily. Even I could do a better job, and I'm not grown…" Zelda's voice lowered, and Link heard them conversing softly for a few minutes before he could decipher their words.

"It's just so hard. I wish… I wish I could be a boy. Then people would care that I'm smart. I could be useful! You see how I fool everyone, pretending to be what they think I should be. They probably won't even marry me off to anyone near my age."

"You wish it to be him, then?" Impa said harshly.

"And what of it? He actually cares. Somewhere inside the fakery, he does. Link would have taken her, Impa. He really would have…"

Link had heard enough. He unfolded himself out of the crevice, and slunk away, past the guards, gathering his books and returning to his room via the courtyard gate.

He felt vaguely ashamed, to have listened in on that conversation.

But what else _was_ he to do?

* * *

Once inside, Link found Tanner snoring away, still sitting upright in a deep, cushiony armchair. More and more, as the older man realized Link truly meant his words when he'd said Tanner was welcome to spend time in his suite, he'd taken the liberties offered to him. At first it was eating at the table in the dining area, then waiting for Link to arrive in one of the upholstered seats. Now he even took long soaks in the big bathtub after particularly hard days.

Once his books were stacked on his desk, Link gently shook his caretaker awake. Tanner gave a snort, then woke, blinking his eyes to make them focus on his charge's face.

"What is it, Master Link?"

"In the morning, Tanner, can you, Chase, and maybe Deana, if she's available, see if there are any kittens around?" Tanner smiled.

"Why, has the Princess's little Elba won you over, so you want one of your own?" Link shook his head.

"No. Elba was killed because she scratched Zelda, I think."

"No!" Tanner looked horrified. "Didn't they know a cat owner always has at least a few scratches?"

"Well, there are plenty of nobles in the palace without their heads fixed on properly." Link shrugged. "If we can find a kitten that has just been weaned, that would be ideal. Maybe we can ask Kancha? She told me she keeps cats in the store rooms to keep out vermin."

"Kancha is always busy. I'll ask Lirina, instead. Go to sleep, Master Link. I'll get on it." Tanner looked like he was going to head to his room, then stopped. "Will you wish to approve the cats if there are more than one available?"

"That would be great, please. Goodnight, Tanner."

"Goodnight, Master Link."

* * *

A day later, after a long afternoon of physical training, Link surveyed the selection of kittens that were presented to him, in the store rooms of the kitchen in the Great Hall. They came in many colors, from ginger tabbies to wildly patched tortoiseshells, and in many ages, from freshly weaned to nearly a year old.

A little white kitten with an orange splotch on her head like a cap was eager to lick his fingers, but ran away when Link tried to stroke her. A black yearling, all gawky limbs, was more interested in the string that Link offered than the actual boy himself.

Link played with the five kittens for about an hour before making his choice. He helped feed the kittens meat scraps from the kitchen, then tucked his choice into a wicker basket with a lid when the kitten was sleeping.

Deana had gone ahead and taken a message to Zelda, who had sent back a message agreeing to meet in the River Room, a smallish receiving room in the Golden Wing.

Impa was the one who let Link into the room, holding the door open so he could carry the basket more easily. Zelda sat on a turquoise sofa, her slippered feet resting on an ottoman, hugging knees drawn to her chest. She was wearing a dark red dress – Hylian mourning colors - and her face was tight, pale, pinched with grief. Sad green eyes took in the basket.

"Is that what I think it is?" She said quietly, raising her chin imperiously. "I don't need a replacement for Elba." Link shrugged, and set the basket gently down on the couch.

"Who said it was a replacement?" He said, "I just think now, the way you're feeling, you need something to love."

"You moved quickly, lord Link." Her eyes, the same shade as an emerald's, narrowed. "Too quickly. How did you find out my situation so speedily?"

"I have friends in a lot of places."

"Spies, you mean."

"No, Princess. Friends. I take care of my friends, and they do so in return. If you don't consider yourself in the group, well… I suppose then I haven't been clear enough, then. Come on, Zel. At least take a look at her." Zelda acquiesced, and opened the basket.

Curled into a tight little ball was a kitten of about two month's age. She was a black and brown tabby, with glossy, fluffy fur, her chin and paws creamy white, her tan belly mottled with black markings. Despite herself, Zelda reached out and stroked that silky fur. The little female did not wake, but began to purr.

"Kancha has a scullery maid ready to feed her regularly three times a day, so please send Kancha a message where you plan to keep the kitten. And, well… If you don't want her, please call for Deana and I'll look after her."

Zelda pet the velvet ear of the tabby pensively.

"If she was yours, what would you name her?" She wondered.

"Nutmeg." The princess sighed.

"Fine. I'll keep her if you answer me this – would you have taken in Elba, given the chance?" Her mouth pressed tight, wobbling a little.

"Of course. Who wouldn't want to hunt Wolfos with a ridge-cat at their side?" Link replied, and Zelda bowed her head.

"I thought so." She said softly, fingering a blue veil, "Very well. I'll keep Nutmeg." Link let his eyes widen slightly.

"Aren't you going to name her yourself?" She shrugged.

"It's a good name – that of a rare, precious spice. No, Nutmeg will do nicely as a name."

"All right." Slowly, the little kitten now named Nutmeg uncurled and stretched luxuriously. Her pink tongue licked her nose, then she promptly turned and began to wash her privates. Link and Zelda snorted with laughter. Link shook his head, and rose.

"I'm wanted at my rooms, Princess. I hope Nutmeg is good for you." She sighed, then smiled.

"Thank you for thinking of me, Link. It was very thoughtful."

"You're welcome, Zelda. I'll see you later, Princess."

"Til then." She agreed.

* * *

Things continued easily after that. Link's last-minute fix had proved its worth to be gold – little Nutmeg quickly melted the Crown Princess's grieving heart. A housecat was apparently more suitable for a princess than a ridge-cat had been, the Queen Alia seemed to think, and many nobles echoed this approval.

Only Impa, Link, and the gardeners knew of the small memorial Zelda had made for Elba in her courtyard garden.

Link continued to visit with the Princess whenever he could, once or twice a week, as his responsibilities would allow. Under his tutelage, and with helpful tips from Impa, Zelda quickly mastered lock-picking. They two children then moved onto walking silently, and tested their skills on the sharp-eared Impa and little Nutmeg.

Before long, it was winter, and soon the temperatures dropped, and snow fell from the sky to blanket the ground, to Link's fascination. Fortunately, the castle was not drafty in the slightest, thanks to magic. The palace tailors quickly made him a winter wardrobe, in itchy wool. Arek, one of his friends, taught him the little charm that kept clothes from itching.

With the snowfall came the approach of Ganondorf's return, and the advent of Link's thirteenth birthday.

* * *

1. Keep in mind that six months in Hyrule is 120 days, not 180. Link's birthday is on the sixteenth day of the eighteenth month, in the middle of winter.

2. We are rapidly approaching the part where my story parallels OoT.

3. Wow! We've reached the 26th chapter out of my planned 40.

* * *

Keep reading and reviewing, everyone. I love you all.


	28. Long Winters

Hey everybody. It's been a while. I must confess I got rather stuck on chapter 28, but finally broke through. Things will hopefully go faster for me now.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Of Long Winters**

"_This whole thing will still come down without you  
It's nothing to do with all of you  
But my own thing is only to protect you…"_

Whole Thing ~ Peter Gabriel

* * *

Ganondorf arrived at the palace during a heavy snowfall. Link stood in the receiving courtyard, in heavy boots, wool trousers, and a very thick overcoat over several layers of clothing. His breath fogged in the air, something he'd only gotten used to recently, along with snow and ice. Sometimes Link still marveled over the winter conditions, despite the first snowfall two months ago.

Winter in the North was full of strange things – snowball fights with his friends, ice skating, Harlan twisting his ankle on slippery ice, the ever-longer nights. Still, he didn't think he would have enjoyed any of it without judicious use of warming charms. The palace was preparing for Midwinter and the new year. As was natural, the last day of the year fell on Midwinter's day.

Now, he stood close to a large brazier, shivering slightly in the brisk wind. At last the Gerudo wagon rolled in, its canopy bright with blue and red geometric designs. Two Gerudo women sat on the bench next to him. Link recognized them – Alya and Nabira, a married couple. Alya was an administrator, in control of the Gerudo textiles industry. Nabira was an accountant, and handled all the financial matters that Ganondorf did not take care of himself. Both women were bundled up warmly, and looked quite uncomfortable. Only Ganondorf looked at ease, but then, these days, he always did.

Standing around Link were various servants he'd befriended over the year he'd been in the palace.

"Tanner?" He said aloud, and his manservant looked up from where he was warming his hands briskly.

"Yes, Master Link?"

"Let everyone know the wagon has anti-thief spells, so they should wait for King Ganondorf to drop the magic before they move to unload everything."

"Very good, Master Link." Tanner left to spread the word. Before long, the wagon was emptied, and Link approached the Gerudo party.

"Welcome back, my Lord." He said to Ganondorf, bowing deeply. "And welcome to Hyrule Castle, Alya and Nabira."

"Thank you, Prince Link." Nabira said, smiling at him.

"You've grown since I last saw you," Alya marveled, "At least two or three inches!" Link grinned and shrugged.

"I've heard from the Hylians that it's normal for boys my age."

"Good," Ganondorf said, looking down at his heir. "You're much paler now, boy." Link pulled a glove off and examined the back of his hand against his mentor's skin color.

"Huh! So I am!" He realized. "Still, darker than most Hylians, right?"

"Indeed. Come, now, boy – we may speak more in the Green Wing rooms, not out here where anyone can overhear." Link nodded vigorously, and put his glove back on.

"Tanner? We're headed for my rooms – please oversee everyone so King Ganondorf, and the ladies Alya and Nabira's things find their way to the proper rooms. The guests will be in my room until dinnertime. All right?" He looked to his king for approval, and Ganondorf granted it with a gracious nod. "Right. That's right."

"I understand, Master Link." Tanner gave a deferential nod.

"Thank you, Tanner." Link turned to his fellow Gerudo. "Now, if you will please follow me, we can go to my rooms…" With that said, he headed for the indoor halls, choosing to take the longer but warmer route.

* * *

Alya and Nabira were eager to sample Hylian food, so Link brought out a few snacks from his dining area cabinets. He noticed Ganondorf's stare when he pricked his finger to activate the cooking spells. He turned, and met his King's gaze squarely.

"Is there something you need, my Lord?" Link inquired, and Ganondorf's stare faded, but the stern look remained.

"You have changed more than I expected, boy. We will talk of this later." What was he supposed to feel hearing that? Link hunched his shoulders, then shook himself mentally, and straightened up. Ganondorf would be pleased to hear the things Link had accomplished. And he simply wouldn't tell Ganondorf the parts the King wouldn't like to know.

Once the two women had finished their snack, Ruby Yannoska appeared to take them to their room. Link locked the door behind the Lady of the Green Wing.

"You wanted to talk to me, King Ganondorf?" The man folded his fingers together and stared at his heir over them. Link's skin crawled – he was the one standing, but the man still radiated power. The boy sat, to make himself feel better.

"You have changed very much, Link." Ganondorf stated gravely. "Perhaps too much. You are a cipher to me – I cannot read you nearly as well as I did before I left you."

"That a bad thing or a good thing, sire?" Link wanted to know cheekily, "I thought I was supposed to be a spy. Unreadable."

"Too good a thing then, I suppose. You act like a Hylian, speak like one, do magic like one."

"Habit I guess, my Lord." The younger boy said carefully. "It can be broken when we're done." Ganondorf smiled slowly.

"Well said, my boy." He approved.

"I was wondering, sir – when do I get to return to the Fortress?" Link said, tilting his head in question.

"When our plan comes to fruition, Link."

"Am I ever going to learn the plan, or will I have to find out when it's over?" Ganondorf sighed heavily, and nodded.

"You are so deep in this I may as well tell you. Come closer, boy." Link obeyed, and Ganondorf explained the plan in a low voice.

When he heard it, his spirits sank and his guts twisted. So that was what would happen…

"By snowmelt, you are to leave this place, and collect the six items we will need to move the plan forward. You will have to do this one your own, but I know you are capable. We have three of the items – your blood and mine." Link blinked.

"That leaves out Sheikah blood, sir."

"When I tested your blood a year ago – you registered as both Hylian and Sheikah." Link recoiled in disgust.

"I'm part _Sheikah_?" He said, horrified. "That's just sick!" Ganondorf grinned at his reaction.

"Calm yourself, Link. You can't choose your blood. It is what it is. While the Sheikah were once our enemy, they were always far more honorable than the Hylians. But you see, Link, we cannot afford honor. If we are to survive the following days, we must break every rule, and not worry about it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good lad. Come – it is nearly dinnertime. Please – show me the way, as you are far more familiar with the palace than I." Link hurried to obey.

In the Great Hall, Ganondorf sat at the High Table, next to Zelda, who he had engaged in what seemed to be a light-hearted conversation. Link caught her eye while Ganondorf was speaking with a different Duke, and she frowned down at her Gerudo friend, looking unhappy with her lot that night.

* * *

Late that night, Link lay in bed, restless. Could he really betray Zelda by following through with his King's plans? Could he dare to betray Ganondorf - who had given him so much, done so much for him? There was no easy answer, but he would have to come up with one quickly.

* * *

Zelda sighed as Impa brushed her long, wavy gold hair with gentle, firm strokes. Typically, Zelda's personal grooming and dressing was done on her own (something her parents did not know – they would not have approved), but every now and then she liked a little coddling.

"Duke Ganondorf is a strange man." She murmured, wincing as her nursemaid found a snag, but didn't mention it – life was never painless, even for a princess. "He does not seem to view politics and influence as a game, yet he clearly enjoys toying with those around him. He portrays himself as an honorable man, yet his opinions and intentions are kept secret. He takes great pleasure in patronizing me. How Link stands him, I'll never know."

"A man of many contradictions, then." Impa said quietly.

"Yes, and a dangerous one at that. The way he watches my father when he thinks no one is looking… it frightens me. No good can come of such looks."

"What are you implying, Zelda?"

"I think… I think Ganondorf wants to take the throne from my father."

"You think he is a traitor."

"Not a traitor yet, but his thoughts, his plans probably are. Don't worry – I'm not going to outright accuse him of it. And who would believe me, anyway? Women are meant to be seen, not heard, and I'm not even fully grown."

"I must agree that the man is truly duplicitous. You must be careful around him, and with how you deal with the man." Impa advised, and Zelda nodded.

"I will, Impa. The key, I think, to coming out on top of the situation will be getting Link on our side."

"And how, dear one, do you propose to do that?" Zelda smiled at the endearment from her nursemaid.

"It will be… easy and difficult at the same time. He likes me already, but the hard part will be in convincing him it's for the greater good. His mind is so focused on the Gerudo people. He needs to expand his thinking to all of Greater Hyrule."

"However you choose to do this, I will support you."

"Thank you, Impa. Now, we are going to be meeting in the Moon Room this afternoon, with a visiting Duchess from Rainfall Province. Do you think she would rather see me in blue or purple?"

* * *

"Link." The Gerudo boy looked up from where he'd buried his nose in a thick Bestiary volume in the crowded palace Library.

"Hmm?" He wondered, and Ferrick Rauros's shaggy chestnut-haired head peered around the corner of a thickly beamed bookshelf.

"We haven't talked in a while, and despite all the busyness of the season, I am supposed to be your mentor. How're you handling things?" Link raised an eyebrow.

"In what? Studies, or… other things?" Ferrick grinned, then winked.

"Studies, of course." Link bookmarked his book, and pushed it away, leaning back in his chair. "I'm doing well – top of the class or second in most things, except Heritage and Practical Accounting."

"I can understand doing poorly in Heritage, as it's all about family connections and bloodline history, but why accounting? I know you do well with math." Link wrung his hands absently.

"There are too many things to do with money, on paper at least. Logic I can understand. Lending and interest… not so much." The younger boy confessed.

"Do you need any help on that subject? I always did well in that class, myself, and it's helped me manage my estate." Link shook his russet head.

"No. I'm fifth of fourteen in that class, so it's not too bad." The man shrugged.

"Very well." He said easily. "Now, what are you reading?" Ferrick peered at the upside-down title of the thick tome Link had been studying. "_A Hunter's Bestiarie of Creatures Moste Foule_. Hmm… Now why would you need to study such a subject? Thinking of slaying a dragon or two? Or perhaps merely Peahats."

"No. I can't… you know, stay in the Palace for too long. I'm sure I'll be returning to the outside world, and, well, you never know what you'll meet on the road." Ferrick slid into the seat beside Link.

"Tektites. Guay. Stalfos, Wolfos, and all manner of creatures that live in the mountains. In the Sourcewater. And in the dark of the rain forest." He smiled as Link turned wide eyes on him. "You thought your stepfather wouldn't tell me? Of course I know. It won't be long, lad – I've had quite the time preparing your equipment for the search, such as it is."

"Really?"

"Really." He took Link's book and idly flipped through it before stopping on a page that had a elaborate illustration of an armored, insect-like creature. "Now, let me tell you the best way to fight Tektites, both aquatic and land-bound..."

* * *

A week later, Ferrick ran across the Crown Princess, also browsing through what the Library had to offer.

"Greetings, fair Princess." He said, bowing cheerfully with a complicated flourish that made her smile.

"Greetings, Sir Rauros. Did you teach Link to do that? He does it often." Ferrick smiled back.

"Indeed I did. Might I ask what you are looking for?"

"A book on the theory of old music magic, and its uses."

"Why not simply ask young Lord Link? It is his specialty, after all."

"I am seeking the more sacred applications of the practice." She bit her lip, then confessed, "And Lord Link has made it clear he does not practice Hylian religion."

"Well, he was raised in the Gerudo tradition, was he not, Crown Princess?"

"Yes." She sighed, looking torn. "Answer me this, Sir Ferrick – do you think he would ever turn to a more Hylian orientation?" Ferrick blinked, thinking fast.

"I couldn't say, Princess. He is very fond of you." She smiled softly to herself at that.

"Yes, I had noticed. He told you this?"

"I am his sponsor and tutor, my lady."

"Can I trust you to keep something between us?" The corner of his mouth quirked upward slightly.

"You may, my lady. I'm excellent with keeping my mouth firmly shut." Zelda sighed, then frowned pensively.

"I do not… trust Duke Ganondorf entirely. He is rapidly gaining more and more influence, and I believe if he continues in such a fashion, he may overreach himself and try to take more than his place allows." Ferrick swallowed.

"You speak of betrayal, my lady." She looked down demurely, a little unsure.

"I speak of betrayal, not yet committed. I fear plans may be discovered, and the Gerudo Province, of which I have grown fond, would be disgraced and lessened. I do not want such a fallback to damage Lord Link's reputation." The man tilted his head, observing her.

"You have plans for him, then?" She shook her veiled head in denial.

"Not plans, but rather, hopes."

"I see." Ferrick said gravely, "I believe I understand what you intend, then. I've no wish to see the lad maligned."

"Then I have your word that you will do your best to protect him and his future?"

"You have my word, Crown Princess."

"Thank you, Sir Ferrick." She whispered. "You know, I had once hoped for you to be present in my future, but I now understand better, why such a thing could not be."

"I was sorry to disappoint." Zelda smiled wryly.

"No, I do not believe you ever were. It does not matter. We cannot have all that we want."

"Wise words, my lady."

"Thank you. You may be dismissed, Sir Rauros." He nodded, and left. She sighed, and returned to searching for the true use of the Ocarina of Time. The instrument had not been created on a whim – surely somewhere, its origin was recorded. Until she knew of its true nature, she could not proceed further in the plan she had devised.

* * *

1. Hmm. Things are beginning to move rather quickly, aren't they?

2. Next chapter will be much larger than this one. Yaaaay.

* * *

Reviews make me happy. Especially when people tell me exactly what they liked or didn't like. You see, that way, I can adjust things in the story better.


	29. Pivots

Long chapter, everybody, and sooo much fun to write.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Of Pivots

* * *

**

Link spent the time between Ganondorf's arrival and his thirteenth birthday showing Alya and Nabira around the Palace, and finishing his studies and combat training.

Ganondorf joined Link's pre-dawn practice, and the Gerudo King was pleased with his progress, though the boy had a little more trouble fighting the larger man as he'd mostly sparred with boys his age in the absence of his stepfather.

With the new, greater intensity of his training, Link was often quite sore, and began to take long soaks in the tub to ease his aches and pains.

The more time passed, the more a certain thought recurred in his mind. Finally, he cornered Ganondorf.

"Why?" He asked, and the Gerudo King looked perturbed.

"Why what? I thought I had taught you to speak explicitly."

Link groaned, and corrected himself.

"Why pick me to collect the blood of three races? I mean, I'm only twelve – well, almost thirteen. Surely there must be someone better to go on these missions!"

"In fact, there were."

"What?" Link questioned, and Ganondorf sighed, bringing up a broad hand to massaged his temples.

"Aside from you, there are only two others who I trust enough with my plans, can move freely in Hylian circles, and whom are not too valuable to move from their current position. I sent these two – and no, I will not divulge their names – to the Zora and up to Gorons. The first likely offended the Zora, as their drowned corpse washed up on the riverbank near Flatmouth. The other was physically frail, and was crippled in a freak rockslide. You are my best hope of succeeding – and surpassing both of those I sent off first. You make friends easily, you are young and nimble, and by the Goddesses you are more blessed and canny than any Hylian stripling I have had the fortune to meet. You, Link, are my last hope to put the Hylians in their place. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Link whispered, feeling trapped.

"Good." Ganondorf let go of the boy's shoulders and leaned back. When had he grabbed onto Link? The Hylian youth hadn't noticed it. "Very good, Link." And the Gerudo King left him there, to struggle with himself.

* * *

With spring slowly approaching, Link began to read up on the Gorons, Zora, and the denizens of the Lost Woods, looking for the key to gathering a sample of each people's blood, willingly given.

The Gorons lived in the heart of the volcanic Death Mountain, and according to the legends and dated reports, they 'ate fire.' What this meant, Link wasn't sure. Only time and experience would tell.

The Zora were sirens, of a sort – part fish, part man or woman. Unlike the Gorons, the Zora were a reclusive sort, but were actually spread throughout much of Hyrule, in Lake Hylia, the rivers, lake chains, and the Sourcewater – the great drainage basin of the mighty Zora River. The Sourcewater itself was held as sacred to the fishlike people. Their slippery skins dried out quickly, so they could not move far from a water source.

The Kokiri themselves were hidden deep in the dank depths of the southeastern rainforest named the Lost Woods (a rather uncreative name, Link thought, were it not for the winding, mazelike paths inside). Apparently they never aged, but all reports and records about the mysterious children were so dated that great care had to be taken to not damage the aged parchments.

It was a daunting task. One he would have to do alone. He wasn't quite sure _how_ he would do it, exactly, but it had to be done, nonetheless.

Link sighed deeply, then stretched in his chair, pushing away from the desk as he yawned. Hard to believe he was turning thirteen tomorrow. He yawned again, and decided to turn in for the night, standing up and stumbling towards the bedroom. He pulled on warm nightclothes, headed to the bathroom to wash his face and clean his teeth. That done, Link ran a circular bed warmer between the sheets, then turned the warmer's heat off, and sank gratefully into bed, snuggling up under the down-filled comforter.

* * *

Tanner woke Link at dawn, as usual. Link stubbornly remained in bed for about fifteen minutes, just savoring the warmth of the bedclothes and the comforting weight of the evergreen and gold patterned comforter. Finally, though, he gave in to reason and flopped out of bed rather gracelessly. Despite the heating charms set up in his rooms, the cold floor still stung his bare feet. It was not yet Midwinter, and the days were still getting longer and colder. Link hurriedly pulled on a pair of thick socks, before leaving his bedroom for the sitting area of his rooms, where he had pushed chairs out of the way to make a space to practice in. At first when the cold weather had hit, he had warmed the courtyard with spells, but had quickly given up and started training indoors, as the area warming charms took too much energy to be practical.

He didn't train much, not on his birthday, but he'd followed the same morning routine so often that it was soothing rather than tiresome, and by the time he was done with the last set of the Fox forms, he was fully awake. After washing up, Link changed out of his nightclothes and into a particularly fine change of winter clothes, a dark navy tunic, over a white shirt and trousers of the same color, all with simple, geometric black embroidery on the cuffs. Thick socks and fleece-lined shoes completed his outfit. At the chiming of the Palace bells, he bowed to the little shrine to Din he'd set up, and lit a cone of incense. He stretched luxuriously one more time, before bidding Tanner a good morning and settling down in his favorite armchair with the intent to enjoy a good book until it was time for breakfast in the Great Hall. As the cone of incense burnt down on the tiny shrine, its long tail of smoke filled the room with the scent of cedar.

At last, the clock on the mahogany mantel chimed nine times, and Link marked his place and set his book aside. He said a polite goodbye to Tanner, and locked his rooms behind him, cheerfully striding down the hall of the Green Wing. A few yards from the doorway to the halls that connected the various wings, Karlen fell into step beside his 'rival'.

"Master Link," He drawled, long legs slowing so Link's shorter, thinner legs could keep up.

"Sir Karlen," Link acknowledged warily. "Challenge anyone to a duel, lately?"

Karlen sneered, then turned his gaze away.

"Don't be ridiculous." He scoffed haughtily, "Duels are outdated. Nothing but the stuff of fussy tradition. Or didn't you hear?" Link grinned.

"I must have forgotten. Thank you for reminding me, Karlen." The older boy harrumphed, and was quiet until they reached the door that led to the Great Hall.

"Watch yourself around the Princess, Link of the Gerudo." Karlen said softly. "You won't get far if only _she_ likes you." Link's head snapped to look at his rival.

"Did it ever occur to you, in any of our interactions, that maybe I enjoy her company?" He asked incredulously, "Maybe I don't have to have false intentions."

"I highly doubt it, Link of the Gerudo." Karlen said stiffly, then added in a dismissive tone, "Good day to you."

"And you, Sir Knight." Link said to Karlen's back as he walked away to his table. He entered the Hall himself, and saw Zelda sitting at the High Table. She looked unusually pretty that morning, clad in a white and apple green dress, a thick robe of emerald velvet over it, and a sheer veil of pale green covering golden hair twined into braids. The Crown Princess noticed Link's regard, and twiddled the tips of her fingers at him in a subtle wave. He smiled back, and headed for his own table.

There, Danek, Arek, Harlan, and Finnes greeted him warmly, Arris a little less enthusiastically, but the stocky boy with the comically bushy eyebrows didn't sound mean, but rather, indifferent. They informed him that there would be a party for his birthday, in one of the nicer study rooms in the Old Wing, later that afternoon.

Lirina came out with trays of cinnamon rolls and _nakne_, enough for the table, in addition to the usual breakfast staples of bacon, eggs, and toast. Fruit was, unfortunately, no longer in season, and time-seals notwithstanding, was not served at the Palace for anyone besides the Royal Family during the winter.

Lirina handed Link a mug of _Kalika_ so fresh it was still scalding.

"Kancha wanted me to tell you she'll be providing food for your party as her present to you, and sends her congratulations." The servant told him.

"Thank you, Lirina, and return her regard with my own." The woman curtseyed prettily, and left to serve the other tables nearby, leaving Link to dig into a generous portion of cinnamon roll.

* * *

After breakfast Link played a few rounds of card games with his friends in Danek's rooms until it was time for the party. At fifteen o'clock, all six boys trooped down the hallway that connected the Blue Wing to the Old Wing.

The largest study room had been transformed into a fine party room – the tables pushed to one side, the sturdy sofas clustered together. On the tables sat a feast of various toasted sandwiches, finger-foods, and a rather large fruitcake, frosted white and decorated with winding geometric designs of red and blue icing. A string quartet sat in one corner, playing merry tunes just quiet enough for the party goers to still easily hold an audible conversation. Ganondorf was there, as was Alya and Nabira. Zelda sat primly at the head of the eating table, with Impa lurking close by. Along with the Princess came her female friends, Aileena, Aldrissa, Kareena, and Gilda. Ferrick and Fran had come too, as well as Ruby, Deana, Tanner, and Kancha.

With girls there, the boys were allowed to dance with them under the close supervision of Ferrick and Impa. Whirling Zelda through a jig, Link was grateful he'd taken lessons from Ferrick and Fran on Hylian dancing in order to prepare for the Midwinter festivities. When all the food had been eaten, everyone tired of dancing and games of pantomime, it was time to open the presents stacked on a back table. There was some bickering over whose gift should be first. The matter was settled by Zelda, who calmly decreed that Ganondorf's gift should be opened first.

Link tore brown paper off a wooden crate, and sifted through sawdust to pull out a sheathed scimitar. Drawing the blade, he found it was finely hammered steel, with a bit of turquoise in the hilt, and dark etchings on the flat of the curved sword. Link tested the edge and found it to be quite sharp. He murmured his thanks to his King, grinning, and the man nodded, pleased with his heir's response. When Link was about to turn to the next present, Ganondorf stopped him.

"There are more items still in the box, Link."

"Really?"

"Yes." Link dug through the wood shavings and pulled out two cloth-wrapped books – one volume a guide on edible plants around Hyrule, complete with realistic illustrations, the other a new book of riddles. The King was thanked once more, and then Zelda offered her present to Link.

It was a leather scroll-case wrapped in oilcloth. Within was a large scroll that unrolled to reveal a variety of highly detailed maps of Hyrule. Link stared, wondering why Zelda had given this present. It would be a useful item, for sure, but Zelda couldn't have known he would be leaving the Castle for the wilderness of Greater Hyrule. Could she? Link let himself grin at Zelda, and thanked her enthusiastically. As he rerolled the maps up tightly, a small note fell out. He automatically pocketed it, rather than examine it and reveal its existence, then returned the scroll to its case.

The young ladies who were friends with Zelda clamored to be next, and presented Link with a wall hanging they had made together, a scene of the desert as the sun set. Link thanked them and didn't mention that there were no coconut palms in the desert – and sparrows did not live there either. Also, the sand color was off.

Danek, Link's closest friend after Zelda, handed him a large jar that contained a powder that, when mixed with water, created a tonic to ease muscle cramps and soreness.

"I thought that would be best, since you train so much." Danek explained. It was indeed a very useful gift – and Link made sure to express his pleasure to his friend.

Arek had brought a massive variety basket of time-sealed fruit, which Link promptly released and shared with everyone – apples, oranges, grapefruit, sweet limes, pears, various berries, a pineapple, and a whole watermelon. Lirina got out a knife and cut the fruit up and divvied the portions out to the partygoers.

Harlan had bought a handsome leather belt, stamped with the Gerudo design and charmed to fit the wearer perfectly, no matter how much the person grew. There were brass fasteners for a sword belt, purse, and eating knife.

Finnes handed over a package that turned out to be a set of knives – an eating knife, a hunting knife, and a skinning knife – all with bone handles inlaid with abalone. Apparently it had come all the way from the Sourcewater, and had been crafted by one of the fishmen themselves.

Arris quietly gave Link his present – a finely crafted belt purse, with a red rupee in it for luck.

Ruby presented Link with a dragon pendant made of jade – apparently it was a charmed amulet for good luck and longevity.

When it came for his turn, Fran produced a short sword, which Link took carefully, and gasped when his dishonest sponsor let go – it was lighter than he'd thought, with a nice heft to it, perfectly balanced, and just the right length for his size.

"It be from the best swordsmith in all Imally, livin' in the boonies south of Sideland."

"It's amazing, Sir Fran." Link said, awed.

"It's magic too – this baby can channel magic through the blade. I figgered it might work better even fer you – music being naught but vibration anyhow." Link fingered the grip, which was of finely sanded wood, fitting his hand perfectly. The rest of the hilt beyond the grip was unremarkable, and Link could see there was space for his second hand, if he needed a little more leverage than usual.

"Thank you very much, Duke Fran."

"Yer welcome, laddie. Now come on, boy, there's still gifts to be opened yet."

Ferrick grinned sheepishly, holding three wrapped spheres in his arms, each the size of a large apple.

"I'm afraid my gift is not nearly as impressive as Sir Fran's is, but I hope you will like it nonetheless. Here -" He handed Link one, "Don't unwrap it, or it'll start to spoil." The younger boy turned the misshapen ball over in his hands. "My gift to you is three amber fruit, right from the Sand Cat Estates near Crimen, in South Hyrule. They haven't been time-sealed, but rather, wrapped in the leaves of the very trees they came from, then dipped in wax, and then wrapped in muslin. This process of wrapping preserves the fruit. Amber fruit is rather useful, and one bite can heal most minor wounds, and speed up the healing of larger ones. I hope you will never need to even unwrap one of these – either way, they will bring you good luck."

"Thank you, lord Ferrick." Link said quietly, and Ferrick smiled at him.

"You are very welcome, Master Link."

With all the presents given, the adults congregated in one corner to talk, while Arek broke out a new box of Riddler's Way – a game board made of wood, carved to look like a maze with spaces to place pawn-pieces. The game involved two teams, and one pawn-piece per team. The teams could advance by correctly answering a riddle given to them by the other team. Whoever made it to the center of the maze won. The game was made more complicated in that some pathways on the maze-board did not lead to the center, but to dead-ends or other paths instead. The children quickly divided into teams, with Zelda on one team and Link on the other.

It was supper time by the time the adults insisted on ending the party, and everyone agreed that there should be parties like this more often, with more games and music and less pomp and dignity as most Court parties did.

After supper, and Third Worship, Link headed back to his rooms, feeling elated, and somewhat curious about what Zelda's note was about. The Castle servants had already carried his presents back to his suite. Link noted Tanner had been at work – for the two new swords were hung up with his older weapons on his bedroom wall.

Ganondorf let himself into Link's room.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" The older man asked, and Link nodded furiously.

"I did, sir. It'll be a shame to uproot my friend's lives, but it has to be done, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed. I have no plan to slaughter them all, so you needn't worry – it will be as bloodless as possible. So long as no one resists." Ganondorf assured his student. "Now, for the presents from family." Link perked up at that. The Gerudo King handed him a sheer piece of cloth out of a box. "From your mother, a Gerudo veil. It filters out everything but breathable air. Dust, poison, gas, smoke, all will be filtered out. It is not, however, waterproof, and will not save you from drowning, so beware." Link nodded, fingering the loops that were meant to attach around the ears. Out of the box came a small ring with a clear stone set in it. "Your Aunt Aya made this herself – an adaption of your own lightstone. It will shed bright light with the tiniest pulse of magic, or, if you are out of magic, a double tap of the stone. It will size itself on your finger, and release you when you speak your aunt's name." Next was three narrow, elegant glass jars, their tops attached by hinged wire. "Your Aunt Dinah created these, and I am sure you will find a use for unbreakable glass jars, somehow." The boy set the trio of jars aside. "And finally, a bow, quiver and arrows from Reya and Aru. The bowstring is horsehair, and will not snap or fray. The arrows have been fletched by the young warrior Aru." Link reached into the box to caress the silky finish of the bow, the wood golden and smooth under his hand. He then pulled it out, strung it with some difficulty, and tested its tension. Very good. Not perfect, like the sword from Sir Fran, but still, very good.

"Now as I understand, the servants have presents of their own to give you. I will not hinder them. Goodnight, Link."

"Goodnight, King Ganondorf." As soon as Ganondorf left, Tanner entered by way of the servant's door.

"The others should be here soon." The tall, black-haired man said, setting a box down on the dining table. Sure enough, Deana came within ten minutes of Tanner's arrival. She sat down in the chair Link offered her, sighed deeply, and swept rich brunette hair off her forehead.

"I'm afraid there will be no others tonight. Queen Alia apparently needed the others for some reason or other. I'm a bit afraid it's quite beyond me. But I have brought their gift to you." She indicated her overstuffed messenger bag. Tanner sat down next to Deana, setting a box in front of him.

"I found a shoemaker in the city, who was willing to make a commission for a young Lord. I took your favorite pair of boots for a day, so he could have the fit of you. They're a little larger to spare you some room for growing." Tanner removed the box top and drew out what looked to be a simple pair of sturdy traveling boots. "The soles are thicker than usual, and they should last you for all of your journey."

"J-journey?" Link stammered, staring. Tanner chuckled.

"I'm in on it. You were the one who changed my mind – that nobles could be different… _Should _be different, and treat their servants better. It's time the people of Hyrule had a king who thinks of more than the next feast or hunt, a queen who provides a good example to all women, not some frivolous harpy."

"I knew as well," Deana confessed, "Though I do not know how it will come about. The less I know, the better. But I have hope that things will change, soon. Too long have I been mocked for being a message girl, and of the fourth rank. My gift to you, Master Link, is a guided tour of the city, before you go in the spring. I think, however, the most valuable gift," And here she pulled a strange leather bag out of her message bag., "Is this unusual bag which will serve you well as a pack. Though how the others found this, let alone afford it, I do not know." Link took the bag, which was worn, battered leather, adorned by a single rupee set into the hide.

"Where is the opening?" He wondered, turning it over. Deana smiled.

"To put something in it, simply touch the item to the rupee. When you want the item, touch the rupee and the opening will reveal itself. It holds more than it should possibly hold. How much, I do not know. You will have to find it yourself." The sitting area clock chimed ten times, and Deana stood. "I should go – it is late."

"Deana -" She turned, "Thank you, and please send my thanks to the others. You all have helped me more than you would know." She smiled brightly, and curtseyed.

"I will, Master Link. Goodnight." Tanner showed her the way out, and Link sat back with a sighed, thoughts churning furiously.

So they knew. They knew. They even trusted him, had faith in him! How could he… everything was just so cockeyed…

And as for Zelda, that was the worst part of it. He didn't want to betray her. Didn't want to see her in his mind, distraught again, like with Elba, only worse, because it would be his fault, his willing betrayal of her trust.

Bile rose in his throat at the very image of it, and he swallowed hard. Then again, pushing down acid. He ran to the bathroom, and retched into the toilet, violently. That seemed to make his stomach feel a little better, but guilt still gripped his heart in a steely grasp. When his shaking stopped, he rose and rinsed the taste of acid and fruitcake out of his mouth.

Suddenly, he felt very tired, after the long day, with all its excitement and revelations. Link washed up quietly, slowly winding down to bed. As he changed out of his clothes, a note fell from his pocket.

It was Zelda's note – the one hidden in the scroll she'd given him.

_Link,_

_I hope you enjoy this scroll of maps. I have a feeling they'll be useful. They were only the first part of my gift to you. Meet me at the same salon you gave me Nutmeg in, after lunch, next Starsday. I need to talk with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Zelda.

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_

1. Okay, a little thing about winter on Vanity and in Hyrule. The winter solstice/midwinter is the last day of the year, of a four-hundred day year. Midwinter is the equivalent of our New Year's and Christmas combined.

2. As you've noticed, COTS does not fall parallel to OOT exactly. Link will be a little older than in OOT when he first sets off on his journey to collect the keys to the Triforce.

3. Link is due to leave in chapter 30, something I am really looking forward to.

4. Three hundred reviews! I'm delighted, just completely amazed. When I first started this story, all I hoped for was a hundred. I had no idea how much this story would change, or that anyone would like it at all, though I'd hoped so. Again, thank you to everyone who reviews. Whenever I have a bad day, I just read my reviews, and know I have something to contribute, and it inspires me all over again.

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Please review. It makes me a happy author.


	30. Betrayal and Midwinter

Hello again, everyone. I know everyone is excited that Link's quest is about to begin. It will begin in chapter thirty. This is chapter twenty-nine, but appears as thirty on the site because I haven't deleted the April Fool's chapter.

I hope you all enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Of Betrayal and Midwinter**

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**Starsday came swifter than Link had imagined. Usually he looked forward to his time with Zelda, but this was quite a different situation. Time had run out – it was time to make a decision. One he wasn't even sure he could go through with. Betrayal could be fatal when one had sworn a blood oath.

He knocked hesitantly on the door of the River Room, steeling himself for whatever might happen. Impa let him in, and Zelda looked up with a shy smile. It was really quite remarkable, Link thought, how she seemed to get prettier every time he saw her. One day, if he ever had the opportunity to in the future, he might ask why that was. And when had he gotten used to her pointed Hylian ears? Once, it had reminded him that ultimately, she was just another Hylian fool to deceive. Now? Those long ears merely fit her delicate, articulately boned face.

"Good evening, Master Link." The Princess said, a lilt of pleasure in her voice.

"Evening, Crown Princess Zelda." Link replied, bowing with that extra flourish she enjoyed, the one Ferrick had taught him before sitting next to her. "I believe you wanted to talk?" Zelda nibbled her lower lip, before plunging in.

"Link, I think Duke Ganondorf is going to try to overthrow my father's rule." Link stared at her stonily. She stared back, frank worry on her face. "Are you in on it?" He said nothing. "That's why you've been so busy making friends with everyone, haven't you? Even with Karlen." She paused to analyze Link's expression, and her face fell. "Is that all it ever was? We're friends because I'm the princess?" He made a garbled noise in the back of his throat.

"Only at first, Zelda." He forced out painfully. Her clever green eyes narrowed.

"So that's it…" She whispered. "You've been under a blood oath the entire time? Sworn to Ganondorf." He nodded, and just that, that little bit of honesty shot pain through his veins, courtesy of the blood oath. Ganondorf had never been one for easy punishments, after all. "I can solve that." Zelda said, and pulled an object out of a silk bag.

It was an ocarina, made of some vaguely blue-purple metal, winding, delicate etchings filled in with silver. Zelda took his sweating hand and placed the blue ocarina into his hand. It was warm, and the pain from the broken oath disappeared altogether.

"I bestow onto you, Link of the Gerudo," She said solemnly, curling his hand around it, "The Ocarina of Time. A sacred instrument that overrides all oaths. You're free now, Link, to do whatever you want. I owed you an ocarina anyways." She added penitently. Link smiled weakly.

"So what now?" He wanted to know. She frowned.

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Zelda, Zelda, Zelda." He said, enjoying the privilege to say it so casually, and pleased to be free. "You figured it out – Ganondorf, the throne, even the blood oath. I know you – you don't just reveal things without a reason. Do you know what he'd going to do? King Ganondorf's going to 'keep things as bloodless as possible. So long as they don't resist.' Those were his words. Of course they're going to resist!" He turned to stare out the window, at the slowly fading sunlight outside. "Look – the Hylian, er… I mean your father the king, he isn't exactly the greatest. Southern Hyrule isn't being treated right, not by the North. But he doesn't deserve to die."

"I know." The princess said softly. "But we can change things. One day I'm going to be Queen. Whoever marries me will be the King of all Hyrule. And well…" She blushed and didn't continue.

"You'd prefer me. I've heard." Link accused softly.

"Yes." Zelda said quietly. "I do. You're Southern. And you represent the Gerudo. If we can stop Ganondorf, if _you_ stop him… You'll be a hero, a hero the South approves of, and the Gerudo people will be spared, as you'll have stopped the betrayal and kept it within the family, so to speak. I think… I think he's trying to get the Triforce to overthrow my father." Link sighed.

"He is. But not the way you think." He said quietly, feeling a slight pang of guilt at the thought of his king. His stepfather, who had been unwise, not evil. She blinked at his words.

"What?"

"A long time ago, Lake Hylia was settled by the Gerudo. Hylian conquerors from the North massacred most of the Gerudo population. The surviving women were given - no, _allowed_ the Haunted Wasteland and the adjoining valley to live in."

"That can't be true!"

"Like it or not, it is." Link insisted. "King Ganondorf wants to use the Triforce to retake the lake. Or at least, that's what he told me when I asked." He added petulantly.

"I don't believe he'd stop there." Zelda said. "Why take the lake when he could take all of Hyrule? After all, he doesn't approve of how my father rules. And why would he have you making all sorts of allies here, why would he bother to get the Southern lords on his side?"

"Fair point." The boy admitted, then sighed gustily. "So what do you want me to do about it? Obviously, I can move more freely than you can." The princess nibbled her lip, then nervously rearranged her veil.

"I think you should gather the keys to the Triforce, so we can get to it before Ganondorf. If we can reveal his plot, you'll be a hero – and if we play things right, one day be king of Hyrule. When we're in charge, we can put an end to the poor treatment of the Gerudo, make everything truly equal."

"You think you can do all that as Queen?"

"It was what I was born to do, Link." She said firmly, and he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Fair enough. _He_ planned on my gathering the keys anyways. I think I can fool him."

"You can?" She asked archly, and he grinned at her sharply.

"I can." Link vowed. Zelda smiled primly, pleased.

"Good, then."

"What wish are you going to make on the Triforce, anyways?" He wanted to know, and she arched her delicate eyebrows.

"When were you planning to leave the Castle to search for the keys?"

"Early spring."

"Then we have until then to decide. And also? You already have the first key to the Triforce."

"The ocarina?" He said, trying his first guess.

"Yes." Zelda confirmed, nodding. Impa cleared her throat deliberately, and the two children fell silent. Voices were heard in the hall, a group of noble women who chatted loudly as they passed the door to the River Room. When they had passed, the pair waited in silence for a long time.

"We… should probably save any more talk for another time." Link said softly.

"I suppose so." Zelda agreed just as quietly, and reached for her harp. Link picked up his new ocarina, and tried a simple melody on it.

The result was clear, slightly mournful sound, a faint echo wavering on the distant edge of the music as it filled the room. The metal was still warm under Link's hands. Zelda gently added a harmony to the notes Link played, deftly plucking strings.

They played together for about an hour before Impa strolled over to where the two children sat.

"Zelda, you are needed in three hours, for the Court. It will take some time to prepare. I'm afraid the both of you must cut this planning session short for today." Zelda sighed.

"Very well, Impa. It was good talking to you, Link. Let's meet again next week, to talk some more. Same place as today."

"Until then, Princess." Link agreed, and left.

* * *

With Link's birthday behind him, Link began to prepare for the festivities of Midwinter and the new year. The Midwinter feast at the Palace was legendary – slabs of ox roasted on a spit, quails stuffed with orange peels and roasted whole, and on one day, a luncheon meal of nothing but dessert.

During class, the boy's tutors began to focus more and more on sacred traditions, deportment, and dancing skills.

Link and Zelda continued to plot, but didn't focus on it much when they met to talk or play music together. There was still plenty of time.

Midwinter was something everyone looked forward to – good food, dancing, displays of illusion and sky-fire from mages, games played with friends, and theatrical productions of history and legends.

Link kept up his act of eager cooperation with his King. Ganondorf didn't seem to notice any difference.

* * *

Alia, Queen of Hyrule, and former daughter of the Duke of Slainway, eyed the fabrics presented to her for the Midwinter dances and Court appearances. At her side stood a deferential dressmaker by the name of Rukana, who clutched a slim book filled with dress designs, each drawn especially for the Queen, lines of color filled in painstakingly.

"Midnight blue silk, taffeta, for the first design, I think," Alia said, and Rukana hastily scribbled that down in her book. "I liked the seed pearl beads on the neck and bodice, you may keep that little detail. Make the embroidery that of gold thread. The second design wasn't any good, nor the fourth and seventh, but I think purple satin and garnets will do for the third, with those ribbons you presented, in red-violet. The fifth design should be in blue, with moonstones and white lace, and the sixth must be white with diamonds and silver thread. That will be all." The dressmaker Rukana bobbed her head in agreement, wrote down the Queen's words, and fled the dressing room. No one wanted to offend the Queen – she could make any offender's life miserable after the slightest mistake. Rukana congratulated herself for escaping the appointment with Queen Alia without any trouble, and at least the woman had a good sense of design and color, or it would have been a nightmare.

In her private bedroom, Alia idly sifted through the bottles and boxes in a hidden drawer. They were all various aphrodisiacs, the best money could buy.

It wasn't that she didn't love her husband, the King. She did, but not in the way people love each other in the ballads and legends. It was the love of long-acquaintance, of familiarity and careful maneuvering to please him. Publicly, Alia and Daphnes had fostered an image of regal tenderness and duty. She wasn't attracted to him, though of course he was – and perhaps that was what mattered. There was no condemnation for her inability to produce a son, but there was disappointment on his part. To keep the relationship viable, she'd taken a potion - an aphrodisiac - once every week and waited for her lord husband in the marriage bed.

She'd had her hopes, at seventeen, to marry a local lord, younger and more handsome, and been chosen to wed the King instead. Daphnes Harkinian Hyrule was not a man you said no to, and that had been that. Ancient history now, seventeen years ago.

She selected a green bottle, uncorked it, poured a measure of the liquid within into her wine, and downed the glass in one long gulp.

The taste of it lingered bitterly on her tongue.

* * *

The three weeks until Midwinter came and went quickly. Mages from the White Wing charmed all the fires in the Castle to glow blue-white instead of red-gold. Banners of white and blue were hung in the Great Hall, illusion-snow fell from the ceiling and disappeared before touching down.

Kancha started serving pitchers of a warm drink with a creamy consistency very much like that of _Kalika_. It was made of cream, eggs, nutmeg, cinnamon, and sugar, called 'eggnog.' Link found it good, but fattening. The winter meals became heavier and richer, but by now Link was used to Northern food, mostly. Someday, when his food needs slowed down, the amount of food most Northerners consumed would be too much, but until then, Link didn't need to worry about his growth being stunted.

And then, suddenly, Midwinter was upon them, six busy days of festivities, three to see out the old year, three more to welcome the new.

The first day celebrated the element of water. Great ice sculptures decorated the hallways and stood as centerpieces in the Great Hall. There were miniature mountains in ice, complete with blue glaciers and running streams and lakes, beautiful maidens, swans, heroes of legend, flowers, monsters, castles, and even members of the royal family. Blue and purple were the theme colors for the Day of Water, and everyone wore elaborate outfits in those colors.

That night the feasting focused on seafood, pulled from the fresh water of river and mountain stream, of the clear waters of Lake Hylia – fish, crustaceans, cephalopods, and shellfish. At the end of the feast, sorbet was served, in various flavors.

The second day featured the land. The ice sculptures were replaced with flowers and wooden carvings. Banners that hung from the walls and ceiling flickered with beautiful images of places throughout Hyrule. The feast was that of beef, mutton, and venison, the colors green and brown.

The third day, the eve of Midwinter, celebrated fire, and the coming of the winter solstice. Everyone was garbed in red and yellow. Songs were sung in the halls by servants and nobles alike, spontaneous dances broke out upon a whim. It was chaos, glorious chaos. At noon the people of all Hyrule took a nap of several hour's duration, before rising at four for the resumption of more festivities. Almond butter cookies shaped like triangles were served throughout the day, delicious and soft. When the sun set, hot milk mixed with honey and spices was passed out, and the nobles bundled up and moved from the Great Hall to the large courtyard towards the front of the Palace that stood between the Silver, Gold, Yellow, and Black Wings. A massive fireworks display started, around eight, and lasted for about half an hour. By then the crowd was quite chilled, and hurried back into the Great Hall, where a massive ox-roast waited, along with more hot, spiced sweet milk, mulled wine, and hot cider. A stage had been erected behind the High Table, which had been moved to the side to give the lower tables a better view. The food was silently blessed by a priest, before everyone dug in. When everyone had been served, the night's entertainment began, first with a show of mage-fire and illusions even more awe-inspiring than the fireworks had been. That lasted for a few hours, and people had begun to talk to those at their tables by the end of the display. There was a break of three hours for the Palace nobles to freshen up and rest, and then they returned to the Great Hall for dessert and the theatrical productions everyone had been waiting for.

First a group of dancers recreated the creation of Hyrule by the three Goddesses, nimble and graceful in their strange, bright costumes. Next came a play, which told the tale of the first Hyrulean king, King Harkinian the First, and his conquest of much of Northern Hyrule. After that, came the main attraction, a new opera – that which retold the tale of Thereo and Aldra, heroes of Hyrule, and their defeat of the evil Albycon. It was an interesting view of the legend Link now knew quite well. The opera focused on three conflicts – the struggle Thereo had in uniting the different races of Hyrule, the internal struggle the Foreigner felt between his love for Aldra and his desire to leave to fight the Dark Lord Kamiarn, and Aldra's love for a man she knew would outlast her and never age. The music was excellent, as was the singing and acting, and before anyone knew it, it was four in the morning.

Kettles of coffee and tea were brought to each table, and as the opera wound down, the actors playing Aldra and Thereo singing their farewells, a second wave of almond cookies was served.

The stage was tidied up after the opera, and musicians came out to play easy, bright songs, to keep everyone awake.

Breakfast was served – eggs prepared in a variety of ways, bacon, waffles, oatmeal and many other treats. By that time, Link was feeling tired and quite full, sitting at the Boy's Table. Danek pulled out a deck of cards, and the boys began a lively game of Lammys Run-down.

At dawn everyone left the Hall for the courtyard once more to watch the sun rise, some watchers softly singing a welcome to the first sun of the new year. It was traditional to stay awake until eight on the day of the New Year, so Link spent some time to read, unwind, and go through his weapons forms to burn off some of the heavy food he'd eaten. He took a long bath in his rooms, dressed in gold and orange as everyone else did, and returned to his friends to spend the day celebrating the sun.

The feast that day featured all sorts of cooked birds. There was the long-awaited quail stuffed with orange, chicken, duck, swan, pheasant, guay, and even giant _tukay_. Also, the thick, crusty dark bread served with cold butter was particularly delicious.

At last the day was over, and everyone in the Palace gratefully retreated to their beds after the long two days without sleep.

The fifth day of Midwinter centered around the moon. The fine clothing around the Castle was white, silver, and blue. Queen Alia herself wore a stunning, rather decadent white gown that sparkled with diamonds and silver, and tinkled softly with every movement. Around the Castle, silver streamers hung from every surface, their expanses faintly dappled. Silver centerpieces shaped like silver hind reared on their hind legs, single horn long and spiraled. That day had the luncheon of nothing but sweets and desserts. There was custard, cakes, cookies, sorbet, candies, meringues, sugared flowers and many, many other confections. The boys eagerly stuffed themselves, as did Link, even though he knew he would regret it later, but that was part of the fun of the indulgence, the stomach-aches afterward. That night, the late feast centered around stews and soups. There was everything from thick hearty stews to delicate, thin consomme. Link devoured several servings of beef and root-vegetable stew, sopping up the rich gravy with thick chunks of bread.

Finally, came the last day, the Days of Stars. The garb worn that day was every color in pale pastel, the entire Castle seemed to sparkle and dance, floating jewels suspended in the air, light winking in and out of them. Everything served that day seemed to be leftovers of the previous five days, which signaled to Link that things would soon return their usual state. Which was good, because if he saw thin custard cream served with meat one more time, he might as well just leave now and return to the Fortress, where they at least knew how to serve healthy food, if in small portions. One more day of decadence, and he knew he would start jiggling.

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Of course, such decadence was not possible for most of the citizens of Hyrule. Instead of complete outfits, the commoners and low nobles of Hyrule wore ribbons of the corresponding colors for each day. There was meat served on each of the six days, even if some families could only afford to eat meat during Midwinter, and not on the other three-hundred and ninety-four days. Incense was burned at local temples, songs sung and a candle lit for every night of Midwinter by the eldest man of the family. The night of Midwinter's Eve, everyone stayed awake until the next evening, just as was done in Hyrule Castle. Larger cities did have public displays of mage-fire and sky-illusions, and carolers went from door to door, singing for a treat like a apple or plum, or donations of rupees.

For those with less, it was a simpler celebration, one centered more around family than entertainment.

* * *

Zelda was unavailable through the entire holiday, so the day after the festivities ended, Link went to see her. They spoke quietly for several hours about which race Link would approach first on his search, and decided he should start with the Gorons, and work his way south.

The plotting pair continued to plan, as the days grew longer. The Gerudo visitors Alya and Nabira returned to the Gerudo Province a month into the new year. Ganondorf disappeared twice in the following three months, returning on the first day of spring. The time passed swiftly, and before they knew it, the snow had begun to melt, heralding Link's imminent departure.

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1. Hyrule gets most of its sugar from sugar beets, maple sap. Honey is often used as a sweetener. There is sugar cane growing around Lake Hylia, and in the Lost Woods, but its use has not spread North of the most Southern provinces, and will probably be a major export in the future.

2. Presents are not given during Midwinter, unless you count new clothes, and finer meals.

3. Consider Midwinter a combination of Earth's Christmas and New Years.

4. I have a favor to ask everyone. I know a lot happened in this chapter. Please let me know what you think of both Zelda's gift to Link, and of Midwinter.

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As always, I love reviews.


	31. Departures

Sorry for the late update - I've been busy finishing up an old project that I have decided to abandon - so I have been summarizing what I'd had planned for that story. Back on track though, and I'm very excited about two new characters we'll meet in the next chapter.

And this story is inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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Chapter Thirty: Of Departures **

_It's the time of the turning and there's something stirring outside_

_If you stop for a moment you can feel it all slipping away_

_It's the time of the turning and the old world's falling_

_Nothing you can do can stop the next emerging_

_Time of the turning and we'd better learn to say our goodbyes._

~ Time of the Turning (Reprise) – Peter Gabriel

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Just because he'd made the decision to betray, it didn't mean Link felt no guilt. He began to sleep poorly, and Ganondorf noticed.

"Second thoughts, Link?" The man asked in concern, and Link's stomach dropped.

"I'll stick to the plan, if that's what you're worried about." The boy muttered, not specifying which plan he was following.

"Then buck it up, boy." Ganondorf advised, patting his heir on the head. "I'm depending on you."

Even Zelda noticed.

"Why the long face?" She wanted to know during one of their meetings, "Surely you can't have lost your nerve?"

That did it for him.

"Why shouldn't I have?" Link snapped, and the princess recoiled at the anger in his voice. Impa brushed her hand against the short sword strapped to her back, and Link sat back in his chair, still angry. "I'm only betraying the people who took me in and raised me, the man who taught me and brought me here. Din above!" He swore, and dragged a hand through his hair, looking away from her. "It's never that simple, Zelda. Never. This plan may save much of Hyrule from revolution, but it's my people on the line. They'll be the ones to suffer if I go through with this. And don't you dare forget that."'

Zelda looked away, biting her lower lip.

"I won't, Link." She said, and he chuckled weakly, humorlessly.

"I can't even imagine, the look on his face when he realizes what I've done, you know? He'll be devastated. I couldn't do it to you, though. There's just no way to win, no easy choice."

"I'm sorry." She whispered, evergreen eyes dull.

"After all _he _has done for me… He won't forgive me this. Did you know – I practically killed his oldest daughter. Her name was Rabiyu, and she was practically my sister, years ago." Zelda watched in horrified fascination as tears welled up in his eyes. "I did something stupid and she was wounded when she saved me. If she hadn't been hurt, she would have survived the assassins that went after him. My fault!" He choked out, and the princess laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"That can't be true, Link. It was her time." She said in an attempt to soothe, and he sneered.

"You'd know? You know nothing! She was pregnant with the next heir to the Gerudo throne, and _it was her time?_ I can't believe it. I'll never be as good as her, even in death. I couldn't even stay loyal to my king." Zelda's eyes flashed with anger.

"You think I like trying to save the country from my father and his forefathers' mistakes? You think I like pretending to be some weakling halfwit girl? My entire life planned out for me, dull and joyless? I'm sick of all this deceit. I understand you're scared, Link. So am I. But ultimately, it's your choice and you chose. Now pull yourself together, Link, it's unseemly." She shoved a handkerchief at her best friend, and he hastily wiped his teary eyes.

"Thank you, Zelda." He said, folding the damp cloth square and handed it back. "Come now, let's talk of lighter things."

"Very well." She said, slipping the handkerchief up her sleeve. "Are you sure you'll be all right going through with the plan?"

"I'll have to be, won't I?" Was all he said, and pasted a frighteningly cheerful smile on his face. He acted happy for the rest of the meeting, but Zelda watched him closely for the rest of their time together, frank worry on her face.

* * *

A week before he was due to leave, Link went down the hill to Hyrule City, with Deana as his guide, a few hours before dawn. Breakfast had been a rather hurried affair, spiced oatmeal and scrambled eggs from the servant's wing.

The sun had risen by the time they reached the edge of the massive Hyrule Market Square, the traffic already at full flow, chickens squawking, wagon wheels groaning and rattling. The pair of nobles paused at the elaborate fountain in the center to enjoy the music from a group of musicians – two fiddlers, a piper, and a woman who danced with a tambourine for money. The frost on the ground melted as the sun's rays spilled over the roofs of the city buildings onto the cold cobblestones.

They visited an apothecary, with its bundles of aromatic sticks, herbs, fangs, bones, jars of powder and potions. A massive pestle and mortar sat ready to use on the front counter. Link ended up with a fit of sneezing after sniffing too many ingredients.

Link purchased a handy cloth for cleaning steel blades, and a smeary wax to prevent rust in a tiny, cramped little shop on the second floor above a greengrocer's.

He and Deana tried their hand at a shooting gallery, and found that Deana had a better hand at the slingshot games, but not as good at archery, which made Link miss Aru and Reya a little. Reya would have surely carried off the grand prize – a jar of star spice.

They went through several bookstores over the course of several hours, and a spice shop, before having a snack at a little stall that sold little honey cakes, freshly fried.

A strange little shop featured nothing but fantastically carved masks, but the owner was out, so they could not buy anything, only look. Link was tempted to steal a fine ridge-cat mask, but didn't, as he'd heard the whispers of anti-thief spells – and didn't want Deana to see him in a poor light.

After that, they had some more food – this time grilled sausages on sticks. They went into a glassblower's studio, and watched the artisan work his magic. Deana purchased a necklace made of blue glass beads, and Link had a good long talk with the glassblower about Gerudo glass and pigment quality. Finally, Link gave the man his Aunt Dinah's address so the man could talk to his aunt if they so chose – maybe Dinah might want to have a child, a girl with glassblowing in her blood, and then Deana and Link left the shop.

They stopped to listen to more music along the way, and finally made their way over to the towering bulk of the Temple of Time.

The white marble sparkled in the sunlight, the gold and copper domed heights still vibrant and brilliant after all the ages. A line of mysterious, rather lumpen-shaped statues stood along the finely paved path to the massive door of the cathedral. A horde of monster-shaped gargoyles perched above the great lintel, peering down upon any trespassers entering the sacred interior, most of them with fangs and nightmarish amounts of limbs and eyes. Link wondered if the frightening statues were meant to be comforting – did they protect the church, or did they just want to eat anyone foolish enough to enter?

Noise suddenly hushed as they entered the sanctuary, sounds muted and vaguely echoing. A little like, in fact, Link's new ocarina.

No one actually worshiped in this temple. That privilege was reserved for the Hill Temple, on the other side of the city, which was far less… monumental.

They quietly roamed the abandoned chambers of the temple, taking in the cool shadows and rays of light that streamed through colored windows that were stained in three colors – red, blue, and green. Link paused in the room which held the Door of Time, in front of the little altar off to one side. Six hollows, one for each race, where the blood sacrifice was to be poured. He fingered the impressions, grimy with long-settled dust, and shivered. Weren't the priests who maintained this place supposed to keep everything clean? And where were they, anyway? The interior of the Temple felt like another world, one where time had been paused, while outside ages had gone by. It was ominous, that impression of an old entity, slow and inhuman, simply biding its time for something large enough to wake it.

Link had the unhappy feeling that he would be the one to wake that sleeping presence.

He touched the altar, and whispered "Wait for me."

Deana called his name, and spooked, he left the shadows of the Temple for the brisk spring sunlight outside.

* * *

Typically, young noble boys stayed in the Palace until they were apprenticed to a knight, whereupon they would follow their master. Upon reaching twenty, they were free to go where they pleased. As Link was only thirteen, Ganondorf had come up with an excuse urgent enough to take the young prince away from the Castle.

Leyline messages were hardly private – as they required a technician to interpret the message. An urgent message had come over the lines – Nabooru, Queen of the Gerudo, was deathly ill. Link was to come to the Fortress as soon as possible, to attend to her, and perhaps oversee her funeral. The news quickly spread across the Castle.

His friends were remarkably understanding, and Link used a glamor to make circles under his eyes, eyes puffy and pink, skin a little paler. He affected carefully hidden grief, and everyone fell for it. He was given time off from school to prepare for his 'trip.'

These days, all it seemed he did was pack. Tanner had gone and procured servant's clothing in Link's sizes, so he wouldn't stand out from a typical commoner boy. He'd take his new sword and scimitar, his bow and quiver, his scroll of maps, his set of ocarinas, his cleaning cloths for his blades, the pain powder and amber fruit, the veil from his mother, his lockpicks, and the set of unbreakable jars. All of that fit easily inside his magical pack, and the leather bag didn't seem to weigh much more than a few grams more even with all those items inside it.

As he'd promised, Ferrick had procured more useful equipment for the journey – a thick, compact bedroll that felt far more comfortable than its width should allow, a thick rope of spider-silk, climbing pitons, a set of flint and steel, a small hatchet for cutting firewood or kindling, and more importantly, a light, small, blank shield.

Finally, Ganondorf set him up with a one-person tent which folded up and had barrier shields built in – making the tent utterly safe, even from hail, or something nastier and more alive.

Deana, ever practical, provided something the men had forgotten – food. She used a few favors amongst the servants, who took food from the Black Wing, the soldier's wing, foodstuffs meant for the long march. There was jerky and salted fish, dried fruits and nuts, hard cheese, various biscuits and brandy-soaked fruitcake-discs. She included a variety of hard candies, and cloth packets of instant soup and tea, as well as the requisite _Kalika_ mixes and a handy set of various seasonings for any game he might catch. Deana even managed to cram a small kettle and cooking pot in his pack, which by then seemed bottomless and held anything that could be touched by the rupee that adorned the simple bag.

Before Link knew it, all the preparations were made, and all there was left to do was to say his farewells.

* * *

Link's goodbyes to his peers were long, and a touch awkward. Danek and Arek clapped him on the back, wishing him a safe journey and for his mother's health to return, while Harlan lamented no one would stick up for him, but the younger boy was cheered when Danek vowed to look after him in Link's presence. The Gerudo prince shook hands firmly with Arris and Finnes. Karlen appeared briefly, cockily instructing Link not to fall prey to guay or heatstroke, and Link made sure to infuriate the young man by amiably agreeing.

He'd said goodbye to Zelda on his last visit, but as he was saddling up in the noble's stable, she appeared, clad in a woman's green riding outfit.

"Link." She said, Impa a large shadow behind her.

"Princess Zelda!" He said, stepping off his stirrup and back onto the ground. "I'd thought we already said our goodbyes! I-"

"Shut up." She whispered, "Just shut it, and take this." Zelda pressed a ring into his palm. He looked at it – it bore the crest of the Royal Family. "If you get into any trouble with a soldier, this will demand they assist you. The leader of any lawful settlement must feed and shelter those who bear this ring." Link put it on his thumb, where it fit snugly.

"Thank you." He whispered back, and she stepped closer. She smelled like fine soap and frankincense. "If you get lonely, ask for Danek of Kelyeso. He's a good sort, and a sharp mind. Plus, he's already engaged, so you needn't worry about improprieties." Zelda made a strangled noise in her throat, half laugh, half something else entirely.

"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about _you_, Link. Be safe. Be smart and don't… Whatever you do, don't die."

"That would be my first priority, actually." He said, and she smiled at him.

"I would… very much like to kiss you, right now." She said, very quietly.

"That would be improper." Link said gravely, and she nodded.

"It would be, wouldn't it?" Zelda agreed.

"Link! You're going to be late for the caravan!" Ganondorf bellowed from the stable yard. They both looked away. Link bit his lip, torn between the Hylian princess and his king.

On a whim, he grabbed her hand, with its delicate calluses from harp-work, and squeezed it fervently.

"Goodbye, Zelda." Link said firmly, eyes catching hers, "But only for now."

"Very well." She said, smiling brightly and falsely, "Until then, Link of the Gerudo." Link nodded, put his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself onto his horse's back, as the princess moved back to give him room. Holding his reins firmly, he gave his horse's sides a nudge, and left the stable and his best friend behind.

* * *

As he and his king trotted down the long hill, Link dropped the spells that kept his hair its usual russet red. He caught his stepfather staring.

"It's that different?" He prompted, and Ganondorf shook his head briskly, as if to clear his thoughts.

"It is. Without your fine clothes, red hair, and insolence, few will recognize you." Absently, Link fingered a strand of his hair, pulling it into his line of sight, where it gleamed, a dark, warm blonde. Weird.

"So it is," Link marveled, shoving his hat back on his head. He'd forgone his turban – it was too distinctive – but he still preferred to wear something on his head. Today, he wore a floppy knit cap, of blue wool, to block the chill of the early spring morning.

For much of the ride down the Castle Hill, Link and Ganondorf were quiet. Link would meet up with the caravan he was supposedly traveling to the Fortress in, and pay his fare. He planned to escape the caravan halfway across the Province of the Crown, and make his way on foot to Lon, in the northernmost part of the Plains Province, where he planned to purchase a horse and head for Kakariko. From there, he would climb Death Mountain and seek out the Gorons, and their favor.

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself for his task. A year, two years. Who knew how long it would take to earn the favor of the Gorons, Zora, and Kokiri?

* * *

Are you pumped for the adventures about to begin? I know I am.

I adore reviews, as I'm sure all you loyal readers know by now. It's really quite remarkable how feedback that only takes a minute or two of one's time can brighten my day.


	32. New Acquaintances

Hey everybody! School will be starting up for me on Aug 25th, so I will have less time for this story. I will do my best to update at least once every two weeks - once a week might lower the quality - and I know all the readers here are looking for quality, not quantity.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One: Of New Acquaintances**

"_If I gave you the truth, would it keep you alive?  
Though I'm closer to wrong  
I'm no further from right  
And now I'm convinced on the inside that something's wrong with me  
Convinced on the inside, you're so much more than me, yeah  
No there's nothing you say that can salvage the lie  
But I'm trying to keep my intentions disguised."_

Truth ~ Seether

* * *

The caravan, bound for Mudwater, was waiting in a square two streets away from the massive main square, all its wagons lined up. Caravans were the preferred way to travel through much of Hyrule if one wasn't skilled in magic. By paying a protection fee, a troop of soldiers would guard the wagons, so it was common for groups of travelers to join together to split the costs.

They found the caravan coordinator at the head of the line of wagons, a skinny rail of a man, dark-haired and pale-eyed, clad in brightest yellow.

"Hallo!" He remarked, when Link and Ganondorf approached, "You'd be the young lord Link, am I right? Headed for Mudwater."

"I am." Link confirmed.

"And you must surely be the Duke Ganondorf, of the Gerudo Province."

"That is correct." The darker man said smoothly. The coordinator blinked, then slapped his forehead.

"Oh, where are my manners? I am Carris Redfern, of the Wandering Wagons traveler's group. We will depart in forty minutes, so if you will please pay your boarding costs, we will sign the contract which will guarantee your money will be well spent." Ganondorf fished out a pair of orange rupees from his money bag, which the coordinator quickly pocketed, then pulled a long scroll out of his pocket, unrolling it with a snap. Carris Redfern's signature and blood stain sat at the top of the contract, followed by the signs and stains of those traveling with the caravan. Link took the pen Carris offered him, signing quickly, then jabbing his finger on the sharp tip of the nib, smearing a bloody fingerprint on the parchment and handed it back to the coordinator. Carris blew the blood dry, then rolled it up briskly, tucking it into his pocket once more.

"Very good, young sir. Now, as you are traveling alone, I will have you stay with the soldiers and their wagon. We have the privilege of marching with two troops during our journey – a full troop of grown men, and a trainee troop, right from the military town of Patcheem. If you would please say your goodbyes, I will introduce you to them." He retreated to a few paces away, enough distance to give the two Gerudo some privacy.

"Farewell, Link." Ganondorf said, "I am depending on you. We all are. I have three pieces of advice to give you; treat the people you meet on your journey with kindness – you never know what you might receive in return. Second, do not forget your mission – to gather the willing blood of the three groups we seek. Willing blood means you must earn it. And last, do not forget who you are. Even as you deceive others, do not deceive yourself."

"I'll remember that, sir." Link said, feeling a little guilty when he thought of the man's trust in him. Had he, Link, truly gotten so good at deceit that his own mentor didn't notice his change of heart?

"Very good, Link. Now go with my blessing; may you have a safe, fruitful journey. I would have you not only gain the three race's blood, but also their allegiance. Do you understand?" Link nodded.

"I do. Goodbye, King Ganondorf." Ganondorf nodded back, his face serious.

"Only for now." The king mounted up, gathered the reins of Link's temporary mount, and trotted away into the crowd, to return to the Castle. Link watched his king until the red-headed man was lost in the bustling traffic of Hyrule City, all his misgivings tightening in his throat. Carris Redfern sidled up to the boy, and coughed pointedly, to make Link turn to him.

"Come with me, young sir." The man said briskly, and Link tore his gaze off of the crowd, reluctantly.

"All right, Master Redfern." He acquiesced, and the caravan coordinator led him to a particularly sturdy wagon painted in the blues and golds of the Hylian military. Redfern knocked on the wooden frame, and a man's head, bristling with brown curls, popped out from behind the canvas siding.

"Hullo, Carris. What is it?" He said, his voice musical and merry. "Is it time to leave, yet?"

"Almost, Lawful." Redfern said, shaking his head. "I have a boy who will travel with your wagon."

"Huh!" Lawful said, and hopped out of the wagon to see Link. "Introduce us, then, old friend."

"This is Link of the Gerudo, Lawful. Master Link, this is Captain Lawful of the Bear clan, a soldier from Patcheem."

Patcheem was a military town, renowned throughout all of Hyrule for the excellent and numerous soldiers and officers it produced. Every boy in that town was raised from birth to be a soldier, to lead men and fight for the Hylian king. Strangely, the adults Link had overheard had also referred to the town itself as a 'bed of sin.'

"Pleasure to meet you, Master Link." Lawful said, "Come into the wagon, make yourself comfortable, and I'll appoint someone to look after you." Link scrambled into the tall wagon bed, and blinked in the dark shade behind the canvas siding. Six boys, all a few years older blinked back at him.

"'Lo!" Said a blonde boy who looked uncannily familiar, "Who're you?"

"Link of the Gerudo." Link said. The blonde boy's ugly, dark-haired companion examined the Gerudo boy.

"You never. You're Hylian just like the rest of us." He proclaimed, his young voice already matured and deepened to a velvety richness that held the beauty his face lacked.

"I'm adopted." Link replied.

"Leave him alone, Keen." A redheaded boy said from further back in the wagon. "You needn't try to bring him down to your level. Come on, I'll introduce everyone. I'm Noten, of the Borer clan. This is Geof, of the Nester clan, my pair-bond." Noten indicated the curly, chestnut-haired boy sitting next to him, who looked fifteen like his companion.

"Nice to meet you." Link said, and Geof smiled.

"In the back is Haldis of the Spine clan – the one with the shaved head - and his pair-bond Rald of the Brook clan." Rald was very tall, and gawkily muscled. "They're both fourteen. And then there's Darken of the Weaver clan," Noten indicated the familiar dark blonde boy. "And last and least, Ferrick Keen." The boy with black hair nodded curtly, his prominent brow furrowing.

"What's with the clan thing?" Link wanted to know. "I thought only Sheikah identified by clans. And what do you mean by pair-bond?"

"Patcheem was founded by Sheikah, when they first allied with Hylian King Atrues the First." Ferrick Keen said quietly. Darken nodded.

"Pair bonds and clans are a Patcheem tradition. Outside, Hylian marriages consist of a single husband and wife. In Patcheem, there are two husbands and two wives, to form the basic family. The men fight and serve together, and take care of the other's needs, while the wives raise the children together. This way, no one is left alone. The four spouses form their own new clan, and all of their children belong to that clan until they marry. Boys and girls are raised with a pair-bond, a partner their age and sex who will be spouses when they're grown." Link inclined his head curiously, at Darken's rote speech.

"Does it really work that way?"

Noten smiled. "Nineteen times out of twenty, it does."

From outside, a yell ran up and down the line of wagons, and the driver of the military wagon clucked to his horses to start pulling. With a groan and a shake, the cart started rolling. Lawful ducked into the shade of the cart back and regarded the youths for a moment, then said firmly,

"I'll be in front with Han, my pair-bond. I need two of you to watch over Link, boys. Decide it yourself, and behave. That's an order."

"_Yessir!_" The six boys chorused and saluted, kissing their fists and laying them over their hearts.. Lawful nodded, and left the back. As soon as he was gone, Geof leaned back on his seat.

"I'm not watching him." He declared, and Noten nodded.

"Let the rejects take him, then." Haldis said, indicating Darken of the Weaver clan and Ferrick Keen. Link eyed the two, who didn't seem outraged. Darken only sighed, and leaned against his pair-bond Keen, who stared at his hands, humiliated. Noten snickered and turned away to start a game of cards with his pair-bond and his two friends.

"Come on, Rick," Darken said softly, catching his mate's gaze, "It won't be that bad." Ferrick Keen snorted softly.

"I know how bad it might get, and so does my back." He said lowly, and Darken looked chagrinned.

"I guess…" The blonde boy admitted.

"Thanks for talking about me like I'm an idiot or not even _here_," Link said hotly, and Keen met the younger boy's gaze squarely with stark blue and gold eyes.

"That is not the problem. I'm not well liked here – so you'd best behave yourself or my back will feel the worst for it. Don't listen to what any of the others say. Listen only to me, the officers of the troop, and Dark here. Those boys won't speak the truth. In fact, they'll probably tell you it's perfectly all right to eat as much rations as you want, or guzzle all the water. Or maybe they'll tell you it's a tradition for every traveler to carve their names into the wagon." His hard mouth quirked ironically. "Yes, that was a good one that they made up last month. All that matters is that I'll feel the heat if you step out of line, nobility or not. It's nothing personal – but I can't afford another whipping."

"I thought whippings were common in the military, that they train soldiers to stand pain." Link commented, and Dark shook his head.

"They're common enough, but standard punishment is maybe three lashes-"

"—Where I get a dozen, and they can't heal me afterward, or even give me the tonic that keeps infection away as it's magicked." Keen said, teeth bared. "Magic and I don't mix well. Call it a curse. You can understand my caution, can't you?"

"But that's barbaric!" Link protested, and redheaded Noten glanced over his shoulder at the outburst, then turned back to his hand and the card game. "Why would anyone act like that?" Dark flinched, and looked away. Keen simply spread his fingers, eyeing them instead of meeting Link's gaze.

"Why would anyone care about rape-get?" The young man said with a shrug, "Only one person. And he's saddled with me for life." Keen shook his head, then chuckled. "But hey - you don't need to hear my sorry tale. Just obey me, and I'll manage as I always do."

"With my help, Rick." Dark scolded, his still-deepening voice cracking, and then flushed. He turned to Link to cover his embarrassment. "So you were adopted by the Amazons? I'm sure there's quite a tale behind that, especially since you've lived in the Palace itself." Keen brightened.

"Yes – that's a story I'd like to hear, if you wouldn't mind bending our ear for an hour or two."

And so Link told them his tale – embellished, of course – of his abandonment and how Nabooru had found him bundled up in the woods at the base of a tree, like a fallen fruit. He spoke of Aya and Dinah (and here the pair from Patcheem nodded without disgust, for love amongst those of the same sex was nothing unusual to them). He spoke of growing up in land between desert and arid valley, with Reya, Aru, Sooru, and Haati, of the courtyard where everyone took their meals, of the public gardens nearby. He spoke of Rabiyu, and her death, and how her death had galvanized Ganondorf and Ferrick Rauros to action, how it had forced the Hylian King to accept the Gerudo territory as a new province of Hyrule. Finally he spoke of the long journey to the Capitol to represent the Gerudo and to take his place as the future heir to the Gerudo Dukedom, and the cities and sights he'd seen along the way. He briefly went over his year spent there, the friends he'd made.

Dark and Keen listened raptly, and asked Link questions of the Royal Family – who answered as best he could- but he only mentioned that the Princess was a passing acquaintance. That seemed to satisfy them.

"Hey, you're from the South, right?" Dark said when Link had finished, "What do you think of the insurrection in Sideland?" The younger blonde blinked in shock.

"Rebellion in the Imally Province? I didn't hear about it…"

"Typical." Keen said scornfully, shaking his dark head. "No offense to you, of course, but the less careful soldiers talk of the Palace's disconnection from the rest of the world. A civilian mob set fire to a chateau in Sideland. When the nobility who lived there escaped the flames, the crowd stripped them of their clothes and marched them out of town and locked them out of the gates, in the winter rain. Fortunate for them that it doesn't get as cold in the South as it does up North. The civilians have taken over the town, and strictly regulate any passage in and out of town. The King won't stand this for much longer – most of Hyrule's salt comes from Sideland's mines, and they make some of the finest brandy in their local distilleries. He ordered a thousand soldiers from the city of Imally to shut the rebels out a month ago – and no word has been heard of Sideland's defeat yet."

"The soldiers were defeated?" Link wondered, and Dark rolled his wrist in a circular, negative gesture common to Northern soldiers.

"Mutiny is more likely." He said roughly, "Duke Fran hasn't sent for more since he returned to rule in person – he's probably helping the Sideland rebels. Everyone knows Imally is only loyal to itself." Dark sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes briefly as a ray of sunlight shot through the gap between canvas and wagon frame, then reopened one and turned to the Gerudo boy. "Did you ever meet Fran the Bastard when you were at Hyrule Castle?"

"Not often," Link lied, "I think he deliberately let everyone think he was a fool."

"The lords of the South often practice such deception." Keen murmured, his voice velvety as he stared at Link. Link stared right back, and the man's eyes flickered away.

"Try to think from their perspective, though, Keen," Link said, keeping his tone casual, "The South now outnumbers the North by three to one, but most Southern nobility is of lower-rank in the Court, or newly deemed, with less influence than a man who holds a tenth of the land they rule. To win the game you must play the game, so to speak."

Keen shrugged.

"I know about deception. Sooner or later, the secret gets out, and then your superior flays your back open, or beggars you with chores. The South must still answer to the King." Keen pinned Link with a blue-eyed stare. "I know my allegiance - and I know my place." Link flushed, but kept his face clear of the anger Keen's words had roused in him. The man was practically accusing him of betrayal – accurately enough. Dark laid a calloused hand on his bond-mate's shoulder.

"This is heavy talk," He complained. "And we're not even grown men yet. Let's change the subject, if you please." Keen's eyes softened, and he looked away.

"Fine. Link – what's your opinion of Northern food? I know Southerners eat an awful lot of rice…"

And they were off again, this time on a rousing discussion of food, as the wagons of the caravan rumbled on along the Province of the Crown highways.

* * *

Night fell, and the boys found spots on the ground to unroll their bedrolls. Rald and Haldis took the night's watch while their fellow trainees made themselves comfortable.

After a long day, Link quickly fell asleep, to dream of the desert, and the burning chateau in Sideland. In his dreams the noble family was the Royal Family of Hyrule, and the crowd jeered as they stripped Zelda of her veils and nightdress. He watched, knowing Ganondorf had somehow brought the scene about. Out from behind the Palace walls, without the elaborate magical charms that ensured good dreams, his nightmares returned stronger than ever. Soon he was thrashing in his sleep, brought back to the cave behind the waterfall, with Zelda at his and Reya's side, and he knew that she would die— she was shouting his name, desperately, over and over.

"LINK!" He was roughly shaken, and awoke, confused. The moonslight lit in Dark's eyes as the older boy shook his shoulder, and Link realized with a shudder that the darker blonde's eyes were not brown as he'd thought, but rather a red so deep it resembled the same heart's blood that had spilled from Reya's mangled leg that day, long ago, in the cave.

"_What?_" Link whispered bleakly, and those awful eyes released him. Dark pulled away and stood.

"Arm yourself – we've stumbled on a Stalfos-ridden battle-grave."

* * *

1. No need to remember anyone besides Ferrick Keen and Dark of the Weaver clan. If you remember, Ferrick Keen has been mentioned earlier on in the story. Both young men will be important later, especially in the sequel.

2. Why are there two characters named Ferrick? It is a fairly common name in Hyrule.

3. Ooh, there is action up ahead! It was a lot of fun to write.

* * *

Reviews are always a surefire way to make me smile.


	33. Brothers in Arms

Hello everyone! Are you settling into school well? I'm taking one more class than usual this semester, so I will be busier, but so far school hasn't hindered my writing.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two: Of Brothers in Arms

* * *

**

"_LINK!" He was shaken, and awoke, confused. The moonslight lit in Dark's eyes as the older boy shook his shoulder, and Link realized with a shudder that the darker blonde's eyes were not brown as he'd thought, but rather a red so deep it resembled the same heart's blood that had spilled from Reya's mangled leg that day, long ago, in the cave._

"_What?" Link whispered bleakly, and those awful eyes released him. Dark pulled away and stood._

"_Arm yourself – we've stumbled on a Stalfos-ridden battle-grave." _

Link cursed and swept up his sword and jammed his feet into his boots. Shaking, he joined Dark and Keen, whose cold eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Come on, Link -" Keen laughed, "Time to do your part and fight alongside us! I'm honored to fight with a warrior trained in the Palace. Try to leave some for me, if you please."

Link took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. Just a pack of Stalfos – he'd fought those before, only this time he was without Ganondorf's protective shield.

The moonslight was bright enough to illuminate the scene clearly – the Hylian soldiers were spread along the caravan, as the reanimated skeletons charged, joints clicking, their rusted weapons held aloft.

As one, Link and Dark drew their swords and waited for the monsters to approach. Keen had already run off, blade ready as he ran right into a knot of Stalfos. Starlight flickered on the flashing steel of his sword, Keen's laughter ringing out in the night amongst the sounds of metal on metal, metal on bone, the shouts of the men fighting, and the keening of the monsters attacking.

And then the line of long-dead warriors reduced to bone and cartilage reached where Link stood. And then, the Gerudo boy was in motion, ducking, weaving, slashing at the arms, heads, and spines, where Stalfos were particularly vulnerable. Bone was nothing compared to honed steel.

He was beginning to sweat despite the chill night, when three Stalfos converged on him. While he was busy fending off one with his sword, the other two leapt at him. Link hastily knocked them away with two sharp whistles, and while he was distracted, the skeleton he'd engaged in swordplay made to cut him down. Panting, he threw himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the rusty blade meant for his neck. Landing flat on his back, the air in Link's lungs exited his mouth with a pained _oomph_ and his sword flew from his hand into the dark maw of the night. A particularly large bone-creature headed for him, drawn by his use of magic.

Dark stepped between the Gerudo boy and the Stalfos, his sword out. He looked terrified, but held his ground. Down came the massive rusted blade of the Stalfos, and Dark caught the strike, then deflected the blow's momentum to the side, flipping his sword up to catch the mandible of the skeleton's jaw, and sent it flying into shadow with a flick of his wrist. Shrieking, the monster pulled out a rib and threw it like a knife at the blonde trainee's heart.

Dark tried to dodge, and caught the bone weapon in his shoulder with a grunt. Link yanked his newest ocarina out from under his shirt, where it hung around his neck on a gold chain. He brought it to his lips, cursing himself for not bringing it out earlier, and played a rough, broad note that threw the massive monster several yards away from Dark, where an adult solder reduced it to bone fragments with a few quick swipes.

Link ran to Dark's side, sending a second line of monsters away with a hasty four-note melody, but he could feel the subtle ache in his bones that meant he was low on magic. His next and last spell would have to count, then. Link took a deep breath, and played the song the Court musicians had played as the Hylian King lit the Midwinter candle on the Day of Fire. There was a soft, wrenching noise in the void between man and monster, and then wheeling shrieks as a dozen Stalfos burst into a holocaust of flames that should be enough to reduce even bone to ash.

The fire lit up the night as nine skeletons slowly burnt down. One close by, rushed Link, who fended the burning creature off with Dark's sword, then smashed the fiery head. He dropped the sword as it grew red-hot from the flames.

The other two, still burning but seemingly unharmed, approached the two blonde boys, who were both unable to fight back – Dark slowly bleeding out, Link drained of his magic and unarmed.

"Run to the wagons, Link." Dark gasped, his entire frame shaking with something more than cold, more than fear, more than pain or shock. More like something kept contained, controlled, and not as controlled as it should be. "Don't take your chances on me."

Someone snickered in the night. It rose to a chuckle, followed by heavy footsteps approaching. Keen stepped into the ring of light cast by the blazing bone-men, and took in the view.

"Bah." He said, inclining his head, "Link – the fire is magic?"

"It is!" Link hollered. Keen snickered again.

"Good." Was all he said, and he hurled himself at the first Stalfos. His clothes did not catch fire, as he let a blow from a burning hand glance off his shoulder. He pivoted, chambered his leg up, and kicked the sword out of the monster's skeletal hand. His sword in one hand, he leapt at the thing and knocked it to the ground, scattering bones everywhere. Before it could reform itself, he pierced the skull with the tip of his blade. The fire flickered out, and the bones stopped moving.

The last Stalfos advanced on Keen as he rose from his crouch over the damaged skull. He ducked the creature's swinging blade, slid into the thing's guard, and beheaded it easily. The skull fell to the earth, and Keen brought up his foot and crushed it into fragments under his heel.

All was suddenly silent, the creatures all defeated.

"Are you both all right, Link?" Keen asked, kicking an oversized femur idly to the side as he approached. Link stood weakly.

"I'm fine – just magic-drained." He managed, "But Dark is in bad shape." Alarmed, Keen hurried to his bond-mate, and cursed at the amount of blood Dark had lost.

"This is bad." He whispered, and dragged Dark over to the now safe wagons, where a medic waited, several patients already tended to. Seeing Keen practically carrying his bond-mate over, the man _tsked_, pulled the bone from the boy's shoulder and poured a smoking liquid into the bloody hole from a stoppered flask. Dark made a pained noise, his hand clenching around Keen's. When the medic was done, a dozen minutes later, Dark's wound looked more like a small, angry burn than an actual puncture in his flesh.

The medic tried to check Keen for any injuries, who scowled.

"I'm bruised at worst, sir." He said to the soldier-doctor.

"You threw yourself onto a flaming Stalfos – you must have burns, cadet."

"I'm fine, sir." Keen said, trying to escape, but the man caught him with a firm hand.

"Take off your jacket and shirt, _Cadet_ Ferrick Keen. I insist." Keen hung his head, and peeled both garments off, the torchlight revealing nothing more than a few ugly bruises. The medic did not offer Keen any of the bruise balm he had applied to Dark and the other men, and moved on to Link, whose hand was slightly burnt from the hot sword. The older man cleaned the burn, and gave Link a soothing drink for his low magic levels.

Keen settled next to Dark, slinging a bruised arm around his pair-bond. Link turned away to give them some semblance of privacy.

"Don't scare me like that…" Keen said roughly, and Dark grinned quietly.

"I'll do my best not to." He replied, stretched carefully, and then deflated against Keen's shoulder despite being taller than the older boy. "I _hate_ Stalfos, Rick. Absolutely despise them…"

Keen sighed, tightening the arm around his pair-bond. "Me too, Dark. Me too."

"I almost let it out back there…" Dark trailed off, and Keen shook his head.

"But you didn't, and that's all that matters."

Just because Link was giving them the privacy of a few yards didn't mean he couldn't listen in. He frowned, wondering what kind of secrets the two boy-soldiers kept from the world.

Would he ever have someone like that? Someone who knew all his secrets and accepted him, despite it all?

It was too much to ever hope for.

* * *

The soldiers accompanying the caravan gathered together the bones and weapons of the Stalfos', and used spells to burn them down into ash. The ash was buried, incense burned and food offered to soothe the angry dead souls who had possessed their old bones to fight the caravan which had foolishly trespassed the dead's resting place.

No one slept that night – as soon as there was adequate light, the caravan left the old battle-grave. Shifts were taken to drive and guard the line of wagons as everyone else dozed off in the back of the carts. Despite having done much of the fighting that harrowing night, Dark and Keen were unanimously selected for the longest shift, and, seemingly used to such discrimination, neither complained at their lot.

In the morning light, five days later, Dark's eyes looked brown again – like old blood rather than fresh arterial crimson.

Link had a mouthful of biscuit, so he finished chewing before he nudged Keen and asked,

"What did you mean, a week ago, when you said magic didn't mix well with you?" Keen blinked, and swallowed a long gulp of cider before answering.

"It means I have no magic."

"Everyone has magic." Link said, staring. "You mean you have no talent for it?" There were many people who didn't control their magic well enough, and chose to wear ear cuffs instead of bothering to remain in control at all times. Keen snorted.

"What I mean is that I could not use magic if I tried. Or rather, magic does not exist for me. Surely you were wondering why my ears are stunted and round rather than being properly long and pointed."

"I had noticed, but I thought it would be rude." Link replied. "So magic doesn't affect you?"

"Neither a torture curse nor a healing spell." Keen said, looking away, apparently angered by this.

"Hunh." Was Link's eloquent comment, and he looked away as well, watching the countryside roll by. In a day or so, the caravan would be far enough along in its journey for Link to slip off in the night, and make all due speed for the Plains region of Lon. Lon was an area of ranches, known for their quality horses.

He was oddly reluctant to leave the caravan – the company had turned out to be surprisingly good. Would he miss Dark and Keen?

* * *

Apparently there were many occurrences around the country which Link had not heard, cloistered in Hyrule Castle.

The mild winter had caused a population explosion in the Wolfos' numbers. To combat this, ridge-cats had been brought into the North for the first time ever.

A new kind of horse-powered water pump had been invented by a miner in Alberry, a mining town in the Mountain Province, which workers in southern Lake Hylia were now using to drain sections of the Vast Marshes in order to construct rice paddies in the cleared land.

In Rainfall Province, much of the banks of the upper Zora River had flooded, washing away some houses and beggaring several large farming communities.

Finally, and most surprising of all, in the fall an experimental citizen's council in Drought Country's Mudwater had formed under the supervision of the Duke Benyamin, to help rule the city. It had proved so successful and popular with the common people that the Duke had split his ruling power with it, freeing up his time considerably. They called this council a 'parliament' – from the word which meant 'to speak, to consult.' Duke Benyamin and his new board of publically elected officials were looking to expand the parliament's powers from governing the single city, to the entire province. Before the parliament's creation, only judges were elected by the people and appointed by the nobility. Duke Hylanis of Lake Hylia and Duke Fran of Imally had both expressed an interest in forming their own parliaments, provided the parliament in Mudwater continued to be successful.

Link was shocked he hadn't heard of this. Dark just rolled his eyes.

"They only believe what they want, the nobles in the Palace."

"That doesn't sound like something a loyal soldier would say," Link said, his eyebrows raised, and the blonde teen shrugged.

"I'm only here for Rick. It'll be all right, I guess. My clan wouldn't let me be anything else, besides."

"That reminds me," Link said, "I've told you both what my family is like – I'm curious about yours, please." Dark and Keen traded a long glance, and then Dark nodded slightly. Keen shrugged reluctantly, and then they both faced their charge.

"I'm an only child." Dark said.

"Which is unusual in Patcheem." Keen added.

"My clan is the Weaver clan. My bloodfather is Atusen, my heartfather is Alrick, my bloodmother Anamara, while my heartmother is Seyla. My heartmother is barren, and my parents thought my bloodmother was too, until they had me. There've been no children since, since they didn't wish to adopt." Dark leaned back, his part done.

"My family is the Gyrfalcon clan." Keen began. "My bloodmother is Giada, my heartfathers are Brom and Jakob. My heartmother is Anita. I have eight siblings – Orall, Klaral, Denan, Genrik, Dougal, and Marak are my brothers. Then there's me, then my sisters, Kylie and Kyri, who are twins. I do not use their clan name. I'm not worthy of it."

"Who's your bloodfather?" Link asked, picking up on the Patcheem lingo.

"Olon Quieso of Stonewall, may he rot." Keen said fiercely. "At least he'll never sire a child again."

"What?" Link wanted to know what that foreboding statement meant, but Keen refused to elaborate. Link sighed, then eyed the sun, trying to estimate the time by the sun's position, but it was obscured by a line of trees along the highway. "Does anyone know the time? My timepiece is in the bottom of the wagon."

Dark's lips pinched in concentration for a second, then eased, his face solemn and strangely, particularly familiar. Realization of whom Dark looked like suddenly struck Link.

"Dark – you look just like the Hero Thereo." Keen smiled slowly.

"Thrice Hero of the Cataclysm. I think so too."

"Uncannily like," Link added. "Could it be you're related?"

"Not a chance at all." Dark said firmly, "My bloodmother would never betray my parents like that."

"Thereo was said to have disappeared fifteen to thirteen years ago, Dark." Link persisted. "There's the possibility – you're fifteen, after all." Anger flashed in Dark's rust-brown eyes.

"Speak for yourself. My bloodmother's stayed inside Patcheem all her life. Patcheem would have known if Thereo had visited the town. No – there's no chance I'm illegitimate, thanks very much. You – we look the same, don't we? You have more of a chance of being his son than I, with your mysterious infancy." Dark ground his teeth, then deliberately, slowly smiled, the very image of the hero in his youth. "You wanted to know the time? It's fourteen-thirty six, pre-noon." Link stared.

"How did you know? You didn't look at anything!" Keen yawned expansively and stretched, then smiled lazily at the two blonde-haired boys.

"Everyone has a unique magical talent – besides me – and Dark's is knowing exactly what time it is, or how long something lasts."

"That's interesting. Huh!" Was Link's response.

"What's your talent, Link?" Dark asked.

"It has to do with music – I can remember any song, and my hearing's sharper than most."

Keen eyed the Gerudo with a speculative blue and gold gaze.

"Quite the charmer, aren't you?" He said softly, "I bet you play people like a musician plays an instrument."

"Exactly, Keen. Exactly like that." Link said breezily to mask his discomfort. For someone who possessed absolutely no magic at all, Keen was unnaturally perceptive…

* * *

It was nearly dark when Keen suggested Link play his ocarina to entertain the soldiers as they gathered around the bonfire they had built to drive the chill of the spring night away. The boys liked that idea, so when Link agreed, Noten caught the attention of the adult servicemen and soon a crowd gathered.

The meal that night was a stew made from reconstituted beef chunks, and a powdered mix to serve as a base for gravy. A few onions and tubers were brought out, sliced, and tossed in the pot, making a rather greasy, but satisfying meal, the stew eaten with hunks of tough bread. A handful of raisins was allotted to each trainee for dessert.

Stomachs sufficiently full, Link brought out his newest ocarina – for he'd found any magic he played on it was far more potent than an ordinary instrument.

Link began with a few jigs, then moved onto rowdy bar songs – the men who knew them and sang along enthusiastically. He played for a good hour, then transitioned carefully into lower-energy songs – love ballads, and lullabies. At last he reached the Song of the Setting Sun, subtly lacing magic into each note and rest, letting it flow to his listeners' ears. He wound down with a soothing waver, then bowed to the applause of the military audience. The fire was stamped out, and everyone settled into their bedrolls for the night.

The spell Link had created and cast ensured that those who had listened to the Song of the Setting Sun would sleep deeply until sunrise, with no awakenings in the night. He curled up in his bedroll, waiting patiently between Keen and Lawful for his former traveling companions to fall asleep.

At last the clearing was filled with heavy, rhythmic breathing and snores. Link steeled himself for his actions, then sat up and crawled out from under his blanket. He paused, listening. Then shook himself. Stupid. He'd cast the spell, after all. No one would wake. Link quickly rolled up his blanket and bedroll, then put them into his bottomless pack. He put on his shoes, slung his pack onto his back, and took a step towards the edge of the mass of sleeping soldiers.

An iron hand around his ankle stopped him from stepping further.

"Where, _exactly_, do you think you're going?" Keen asked coldly.

* * *

1. There are 12800 hours a year on Vanity, while there are 8760 hours a year on Earth. That means Vanity's year is 146% longer than Earth's.

2. Yay, more politics! We are witnessing the birth of an entirely new political power – rule of the people, by the people. Only time will tell whether the aristocracy of Hyrule will accept such a new, radical force.

3. Also, one person mentioned that despite there being no pigs/boars on Vanity, I mention an awful lot of bacon and sausage. But bacon and sausage refer to preparation of meat. In our world today there are such things as turkey bacon and chicken/beef sausage and stuff. If I talk about bacon/sausage, it's probably venison or caribou.

4. In Patcheem, biological parents are bloodfather/mother, while non-biological parents are heartfathers/mothers.

5. Yes, Keen has no magic. But there are downsides… We haven't seen the last of him.

6. I am leaving some loose threads in this chapter which will ultimately be resolved in the sequel – Child of the Sun: Traitor. Yes, a sequel. I suppose I could make everything one big story, but in my mind there is a clear division between the plots of the two story arcs.

* * *

If I can write during school, you can review too! Pretty please?


	34. Lon

Hello again, everyone! It's been a busy week for me. As usual, I will do my best to update every week, but there's no guarantees.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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**Chapter Thirty-Three: Of Lon**

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* * *

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An iron hand around Link's ankle stopped him from taking a second step.

"Where, exactly, do you think you're going?" Keen asked coldly.

"To relieve myself." Link replied steadily, conjuring up a confused expression. Keen scowled and sat up, still gripping Link's foot.

"With your bedroll gone and pack ready? I don't think so." Rather than continuing his charade, Link brought his free foot up and stomped hard on the wrist attached to Keen's restricting hand. Keen let go with a hiss of pain, rolling quickly to his feet.

"I had forgotten that magic can't touch you," Link commented, drawing his sword and backing up slowly. "Stupid of me, really."

"You conniving little worm," Keen said furiously, "Why leave the caravan when we haven't even reached Mudwater? Unless you want to be declared as missing. Unless your true destination isn't Mudwater after all." Keen reached for the long knife under his bound-straw head-rest, but Link brought his blade out and around, touching the tip to Keen's chin.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." Link warned calmly, his hand and sword perfectly still. "I don't want to hurt you, but in the long run, it won't matter if you die so long as I achieve my goal."

"Southern scum."

"Now, now, _Cadet_ Ferrick Keen," Link chided, "Is that any way to treat Princess Zelda's messenger?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." Keen spat. Link simply held his right hand up, letting the Princess's ring on his thumb glitter in the pale blue moonlight of little Seles. Keen stared at it – he'd apparently seen the pictures of the legendary rings which the Royal Family gave out to those who were loyal, important servants, rings that granted assistance from any citizen of Hyrule who was loyal to the Crown.

"No one must know of my movements. Those were her exact words." Link lied. "Much is at stake, and I can't afford your knowledge of the truth."

"You are her servant?" Keen asked, wary and frozen, eyes wide.

"I am." Link confirmed.

"I don't believe it."

"Then disbelieve it."

"So you claim. What is the Princess like then?"

"I don't have time for this," Link grumbled, and Keen shook his head.

"Your spell should last all night if I'm right. What kind of Princess sends a boy of thirteen winters on a mission so secret no one must know?"

"A wise one, and cunning enough to recognize when no one else will believe her, and act accordingly. She has a lot in common with Duke Fran of Imally." Link ignored Keen's disapproving growl. "They both play the fool to hide their true nature. And they both care about the country's common good."

"Humph." Keen replied, and drooped subtly, like a living marionette with it's mental strings cut. "As a loyal subject, I must submit to the authority of the Crown, and let you go. You must command me to."

"Why?" Link wanted to know, "Why can't you just lie and say you slept with the others?"

"I must not. Magic doesn't affect me, anyway." Keen added petulantly, and Link frowned.

"That's not good enough. Why?"

Keen sneered at Link's dogged insistence.

"I am more like that wretch of a sire than I would like. I once regarded rules and courtesies as worthless things. I brought great grief to my clan, who kept my origins secret from me – when I discovered the truth, I vowed to never trouble them again. Therefore, I will never lie again. You must command me to let you go, Link, so that I can tell my captain the truth – that I had to obey the order of a noble. I will be punished, but less than if I had lied outright. Do you understand?"

"Honest to the bone, aren't you, Keen..." Link sighed, and Keen's ugly face hardened.

"It's a matter of principle."

"All right, fine." The Gerudo boy relented, "Ferrick Keen, as heir to the Dukedom of the Gerudo Province, I command you let me go, and tell no one my intentions or which direction I left."

"Yes, my lord." Keen said stiffly, and Link sighed.

"You're making me feel like a monster, Keen." He said ruefully, and Keen shrugged.

"You must do whatever the Princess commands. She will be Queen, one day."

"She will, won't she?" Link agreed, then pulled a small jar out of his pack. "Look – at least take this, for whatever wounds you get because of me." Keen took the paper packet Link offered him, and smiled ruefully.

"Magic potions, Link?"

"Not magic – that's a powdered preparation of willow bark. An effective painkiller."

"I see." The older boy tucked the packet into his pocket. "Go, Link. I won't delay you any longer."

"Goodbye, Ferrick Keen. Tell Dark goodbye for me."

"I'll try." Link nodded at Keen's response, lit his lightstone ring, and began walking, leaving the caravan camp behind.

* * *

Years ago, after Rabiyu had gifted Link with a compass, she had taught him orienteering – the art of traveling with nothing more than a map and a compass. He had gotten fairly good at it, but couldn't be completely confident he knew what he was doing – Rabiyu had died before he could complete his studies in the subject.

If he was where he thought he was, it would take a week's travel on foot to reach the broad area of the Plains Province known as Lon. Lon was not a city, but rather a community of about a dozen ranches, all fairly wealthy, and known for their fine Hylian-bred horses. Link planned on acquiring a horse, then making his way east across the Plains Province, through the northernmost tip of the Rainfall Province, to Kakariko in eastern Mountain Province.

Contrary to what everyone in the Palace thought, the Plains themselves were not perfectly flat expanses of grass. There were ridges, great rolling hills, even trees and tall shrubs, streams and rivers.

Link easily skirted the towns around Ryeton, stopping at a general store in the minute downtown of Haverall to pick up some fresh perishables. Horses were available in Haverall, but not the kind Link would need to last the rest of his journey.

Three day's journey from Lon, Link shot down a duck with his fine new bow. Roasted on a magic-powered cooking stone, the mallard made fine, if gamey eating.

He was quite hungry when he made it to the small outpost that lay on the border of the Lon region. He entered the largest tavern and ordered a large meal – then asked the innkeeper as a satisfied patron, having bought the man's generosity - where in the area could he find a ranch with good horses, ones with plenty of stamina, but not too dearly priced? He was steered to the somewhat shabby Long Lon Ranch, on the easternmost side of Lon.

* * *

Back on the road to Mudwater, Ferrick Keen laid down on a pallet as Dark of the Weaver clan carefully tended to Keen's wounds from the thorough flogging he'd received a week ago, as he did now every morning. It was something he'd grown used to over the years – doing his best to heal a young man who couldn't be treated by any kind of healing magic. This time had been bad – the captain knew Rick couldn't handle much, so he'd made every blow count – gotten a little too enthusiastic, Dark thought darkly, dried-blood eyes narrowing. He'd sewn up a laceration that went a little too deep and would definitely scar, cleaned and bandaged the rest as best he could. Of course, Rick was expected to perform all his duties as usual, never mind his whipping. Dark had begged a flask of moonshine off one of the adult soldiers to clean his bond-mate's wounds, with the promise to take up a few of the soldier's duties in return for the booze.

It was a hard life. Dark didn't particularly enjoy it – not the rules nor the apparently endless need for uniform perfection. But Rick's dreams were greater than Dark's insubstantial fantasies. And Rick would never leave this life – he dreamt of working his way up the ranks, _proving _himself to everyone who looked down upon him, proving that he could be great.

So Dark looked after his pair-bond's hurts, supported him as best he could, and dreamed of a life far away, somewhere no one knew them, and didn't care that Rick was a magical reject, or of the monster inside Dark, the one he kept locked up and hidden where no one could see.

* * *

Link stood warily in the faded entrance to the Long Lon Ranch, eying the set of greyed and dirty wooden buildings that formed the ranch. Was this place truly the right place to search for a steed? The ranch was large, but clearly it had seen better days. He shrugged to himself. There was nothing to do but find out.

He rapped on the wooden door of the main house, shuffling his boots self-consciously. Would the ranch owners even take him seriously as a customer? Mature or not, Link was only thirteen, and dressed in muddy, sturdy clothing, his hair greasy and his body dirty from going without a bath for two weeks.

He waited. No response. He knocked again, this time more insistently. Link's sharp ears heard approaching footsteps inside, and then the door opened. A tall, skinny man with bristling brown hair peered out.

"Yes, young man?" He inquired in a nasal voice.

"Are you the owner of the Long Lon Ranch?" Link asked, and the man sighed.

"If_ only…_" He muttered, then seemed to mentally shake himself, regarding Link with interest. "No. The ranch belongs to Talon Longheart, my brother. What do you need, lad?"

"I would like to speak to your brother, please, sir."

"He is indisposed at the moment. Are you a farmhand at some other… no, those aren't Plains clothes…" The man tsked to himself, "Are you a customer? Long Lon Ranch has a fine dairy business, but we no longer produce any dairy products besides milk these days."

"Actually, I'm looking to buy a horse. I was told the ranch has fine horses, ones with stamina."

"You have the money?" The brunette man asked doubtfully, and named a figure. Link smiled, and named a higher number – not all he had on him, but more than enough for any horse. The man finally smiled, and opened the door further. "Come in then, lad. I haven't introduced myself properly, have I? I am Ingo Longheart, farmhand on this ranch."

"I'm Link Forrester." Link said, his new surname thought up a week ago. It wouldn't do to spread his real name everywhere, allowing others to track his movements. Link was a common enough name, and the family name Forrester was common in Imally, especially along settlements on the edge of the Lost Woods, where it was a mark of pride to take a forest-related surname.

"From Imally, eh?" Ingo said, "You don't have an accent…"

"My father was an educated man – a wealthy merchant."

"Then where is he, may I ask?"

"My entire family's dead, from bandits and the forest disease." Link lied dully, as if he'd said it enough times to no longer be affected by the actual truth behind the phrases. "My uncle says he'll take me in, but he lives in Arryn and I've had to take several wagons North. The last one got me as far as Arrant, but no further. Money is no problem, and I think having my own horse would be more reliable than the random kindnesses of others."

"You do not seem saddened." Ingo remarked. The boy let himself shrug jerkily.

"It's been months since they left me. We had an unusually small family for Imally, just me, my parents, and my sister. Besides," and here Link let himself smile, slow and bloodthirsty, "I've blooded justice – my family's spirits will rest avenged." Ingo's eyes widened.

"But you're a boy! My niece is your age, you're nowhere near old enough to claim justice…" He said, alarmed. Link shrugged.

"I'm Imally-bred. We're tough." He replied simply. "Now, I was told that I must deal directly with ranch owners if I wish to purchase a good steed. Where is your brother? You said he was indisposed, where is he, and when will he return?"

"He is in the house."

"Then why is he indisposed?" Ingo ground his teeth at the question.

"He is sleeping."

Link blinked, startled. "But it's fifteen in the afternoon! Why would he not be up?"

"On account of too much drink, Link Forrester." Ingo said flatly. "He'll be up eventually. But right now, you look tired and worn. As you plan to buy one of our finest mounts, I don't see why you should return to the inn – it's miles away. You can stay here, if you wish. My niece would be happy to have company her own age."

"Thank you, Master Ingo." Link said gratefully, "I don't mean to inconvenience you, but do you know when I might take a bath? I haven't had one in ages." Ingo smirked.

"An Imally boy wants a bath? Unheard of."

Link made himself scowl. "That's only a rumor. We bathe just like anyone else." Ingo twirled one end of his mustache around a bony finger, his face contemplative.

"I tell you what, Master Link, I'll see that you get a discounted price if you help me around the ranch for two weeks." Ingo said, rubbing his hands together. Link cocked his head to the side.

"What would that include?"

"Mucking out the stables, feeding the livestock, gathering eggs from the Cuccoos, chopping firewood, grooming the horses, keeping the house clean, and hauling water." Ingo said, ticking the chores off on his fingers. "During this time you may also ride the horses all you so please, to get a good feel for which ones you might like." Link thought about that, then spat on his hand and held it out, as was common in the Plains, but also in Imally.

"I can do that. You have a deal." Ingo took Link's hand, and they shook on it.

"Come in, Master Link – it's almost time for lunch." Ingo opened the door and they went inside. The house was modest but clean – made entirely of wood. The floor was neat wooden boards. The furniture was sturdy and well-loved, rough wall hangings decorated whitewashed walls.

"Mister Ingo, is that you?" A girl's bright voice asked from the direction of the kitchen, her voice higher and squeakier than Zelda's soft, silky low tones. "Can you wake up Daddy for me? It's time for Second Worship."

"I have a visitor, Miss Malon." Ingo said, locking the front door. A girl with bright red hair exited the kitchen, carrying three folded prayer rugs in her arms. A copious smattering of brown freckles speckled her face and arms. She took in Link's presence with wide eyes – a light sky blue. "This is Link Forrester, a customer."

"Nice to meet you, sir!" She squeaked, her face flushing as she noticed how handsome Link was. Link dipped a bow to her – it was a very Imally-like gesture. His friendship with Fran had been more helpful than the man had known.

"I'll be staying for about a week, Miss Malon." He informed her, "Long enough to get a good feel for all the horses."

"Can I help?" She asked eagerly, and he shrugged and made himself smile.

"I'd like that." A wooden clock on the wall chimed sixteen times, and Ingo sighed.

"I'll go wake your father, Miss Malon." He said, sneering a little, and climbed the rough stairs that led to the second floor, taking a prayer rug with him. From upstairs came the urgent sound of Ingo's voice, and a deeper man's voice grunting, then complaining quietly. Link's sharp ears heard it all – Ingo scolding and coaxing the owner of the Long Lon Ranch to _get out of bed now, my dear little brother, or you'll offend the Goddesses and we'll lose all our business, and if that happens, even you won't be able to sleep all day…_

The clock chimed, this time with a deeper ring, and Link and Malon spread the other two out on the floorboards, dropping to their knees and prostrating themselves on the rugs. Link pressed his forehead to his hands, pressing his hands to the rug, letting his breathing fall in the pattern he'd learned. As he breathed, he forced himself to think of something – anything to negate what should be a form of worship without thought – and settled upon the unruly complaint that _I don't mean any of it, and it's a ridiculous way to pray, anyways…_

After Midwinter, Link and Zelda had planned at a lot of things. He would have to masquerade as a normal Hylian boy, not Gerudo nobility. So Zelda had carefully taught him the proper way to breathe, how to fold himself into the prostrate position used during praying, until he could do it as easily as if he'd done it all his life. And if he didn't mean any of it, Zelda didn't seem to mind.

After ten minutes of prayer, the Longheart's clock chimed twice, signifying the end of Second Worship. The two teens unfolded themselves, and rolled the prayer rugs up. Link handed the one he'd used to Malon with a word of thanks. She got up and put them away on a wooden shelf. Descending footsteps made Link look up. A large, rumpled obese man in straining denim overalls went down the steps, heavily.

Link put on a smile, and stepped forward to introduce himself.

"You must be Master Talon Longheart, am I right?" The man blinked sluggishly.

"Yes, m'boy, I am."

"I'm looking for a horse, and I was steered around to your ranch. Now, what-"

"It's time for lunch!" Malon announced, and Link scowled mentally at the interruption. He'd hoped to charm the man straight away "You menfolk can talk your business after everyone's been fed and watered." Ingo sighed, and the four elves sat themselves down at the kitchen table.

Malon brought out bread, butter, cheese, cold slices of chicken meat, and a mixture of beans and onions. Link would have liked to make an open-faced sandwich of the ingredients, as they did in the North, but had to stay true to his false background. Instead, he made a cheese-and-chicken sandwich and ate the beans on their own, while Malon, Ingo, and Talon ate their bread with butter, had the chicken on its own, and mixed the beans with the cheese. Malon drank milk, as did Link, while the men had beer. Ingo would have let Link drink the fermented beverage as well, but Talon guffawed and said Link wasn't nearly that old, despite being a customer. Link let himself pout – there was no drinking age in Imally as there was in the North.

Link kept up an amiable silence throughout much of the meal, observing the family and their mannerisms. Talon seemed jovial and hearty, Ingo cold and detached. Malon interrupted without pause, and her few words to Link were treacle-sweet, in contrast to her bossy tones to her male relatives. Link puzzled over why Ingo was so polite and deferential to Talon and Malon – always calling them 'Master Talon' and 'Miss Malon' – when they themselves treated him quite casually. And why was Talon owner of the ranch if Ingo was the elder brother? It would be foolish to ask why at the moment, so Link kept his thoughts to himself and his Imally-bred façade up.

After the meal was done, Malon cleaned up, while Ingo let Link set his possessions in the older man's bedroom. Talon went off to 'manage the books,' while Link and Ingo set about to feeding the cattle.

It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

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1. Remember, remember, remember – on Vanity a week is five days long!

2. Link is quite duplicitous, isn't he?

3. The maps and other notes on the geography of Hyrule can be found on my livejournal here: http: / / rinrabble . livejournal. com / 1556 . html. Just delete the spaces.

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Please review, it brightens these fading autumn days. We are so close to 400 reviews!


	35. Dissonant Melodies

Guys... Guys, I'm not dead yet, simply busy. I've been sweating bullets over not posting for three weeks, so I'm greatly relieved to be done with chapter 35. As things are right now, I expect we'll be done by 45.

As always, inspired by Ocarina of Time

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Chapter Thirty-Four: Of Dissonant Melodies

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Link got his bath after all, two days into his time at the Long Lon Ranch. He and Ingo hauled water from the well to a tin tub in the washroom. A few drops of Ingo's blood in the tub's blood receptacle heated the water up quickly. Malon was given the first go, and she washed and soaked in the bath for a good hour, to the men's displeasure. Talon took the next bath at the vehement prodding of Ingo, and fouled the water so much the tub had to be drained, washed, and refilled from the well once more. Again, more blood was offered to the tub's heating spells, and Ingo allowed Link to wash first. The boy scrubbed quickly with a lumpen bar of rough soap, then washed his greasy hair twice to ensure it was clean enough for his standards, missing the fine soaps and perfectly hot water of the Palace. He let himself soak for about ten minutes, before climbing out and drying off. Ingo was gruffly thankful that there was hot water left over for him – magic tub or not, he didn't want to use more blood that day.

The mornings at Long Lon Ranch were early and busy, the afternoons increasingly warmer. The nights were filled with music, to Link's delight. Malon had a lovely, if breathy voice, and Ingo was fairly good on the fiddle. Each evening Talon listened quietly with a mug of beer or cider, and retired to bed before the music was over. The large man woke in the late afternoon, spent the rest of the day training horses, eating, and playing cards with his older brother.

Every morning Link ate a quick meal of oatmeal and yogurt, then helped Malon and Ingo collect the chicken eggs, milk the cattle, then feed and water the livestock. After Second Worship they ate lunch, usually consisting of bread, spiced beef sausage and cheese. Malon, Link, and Ingo spent an hour or so after lunch familiarizing Link with the horses.

Malon's favorite was a finely muscled three-year old mare, tall and fiery, by the name of Epona. She was almost doggishly devoted to the girl, but Link soon found she was fond of music, and would let him groom her if he whistled the lullaby Malon had sung to her since she was a filly.

Noticing Link's increasing fondness for the mare, Ingo took Link aside.

"You're thinking of buying Epona, aren't you, boy?" The lanky man queried, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Yeah." Link confirmed, and Ingo shook his head roughly.

"I wouldn't." Link frowned at that, confused.

"Why not? She's got great stamina and speed."

"Ay, she does. But she's also skittish and like as not to run away from you as obey you. She's been spoiled by Miss Malon and Master Talon since she was foaled. Her performance is incredible, but erratic. Think, boy. What would she be like against a monster or bandit on the road? She doesn't take well to stalls – there aren't many ranches in Arryn, and you'd never get her in a stall in Waysken. She'd hurt herself." Ingo said firmly in his nasal voice.

"You're sure of that." Link said flatly, and the man nodded.

"Epona is a fine piece of horseflesh, and she'd cost you dearly. You're a good lad, Link. And she's worth less than she costs, unless you plan to breed her. As a riding horse now, she's useless."

"You plan to breed her then?" The lanky man shrugged.

"I've always dreamed of being a breeder. If I could find a calm, steady stallion to knock her up, the foals could really be something." Ingo's tone was wistful. Link sighed. Ingo was a fair man, he'd come to know.

"Why don't you work for some other man than Master Talon, then, instead of never being let to take charge?"

"I couldn't leave this place, not ever." Ingo said with a bitter smile, his mustache quirking up. "I was set to inherit the ranch, in my youth. But first I wanted to travel, to see the world. Our parents understood – I was the hard worker, the one who would make this place even greater than it already was. They sent me off with a full purse and all their blessings. Talon and I have always had our weaknesses – for him it is drinking and sleeping, for me it was the dice. I gambled away all my money and wages in Riverside. I was too poor to even return to the Plains Province, so I sought the help of a wise woman, who helped rid me of my need for games and cards and stakes. Then I worked for years to erase my debt. When I had enough to return home, I did so, penniless. My parents were old by then, and when they heard what I had done, they disowned me. And so Master Talon became the master of Long Lon Ranch. Miss Malon won't consider me her uncle – my brother has poisoned her against me." Ingo sighed, looking at the blue, blue sky, smiling sadly. "I could have made this place great. If I had my way I'd hire a few hands to help on the ranch, to make cheese and butter out of the milk we produce. With the money from that I'd buy a few good horses from the Gerudo Province, and improve our stock. Long Lon Ranch could be the best producer of steeds in all of Lon. No – the best in the Province. My heart has never been in dairy, anyways."

"Well, I don't know much about horses, aside from riding them," Link commented, fully in his Imally-bred persona, "But even I've heard Gerudo horses are good." Link wanted to help Ingo, really he did. He wanted to tell the man about Reya, about the swiftness of hooves on desert sand, of the strong arched necks and delicate heads and legs of his people's horses. Wanted to give Ingo a way to speak to the Gerudo, to make his dreams come true for the kindness the snarky man had shown a boy of supposedly Imally birth. But no, there were secrets to be kept, and ultimately the mission was more important than one man's smashed dreams, Link thought with regret. So he stretched indolently, reached up to pick straw from his similarly colored hair, and asked instead:

"Anyway, if you don't recommend Epona, which horse would you choose for me?"

"Deste would be best, I think. He's nice and steady, in both stamina and temperament."

"Deste? The uh, the dappled grey gelding?"

"That's the one. You can ride him tomorrow, after lunch."

"All right."

That evening they fixed the more shoddy stretches of fencing until it was dark. Ingo and Link washed of the dirt and dust as best they could with a bucket of water and a rag before coming in for supper, the fourth meal of the day. Supper that night was roast chicken, with potato dumplings, mashed vegetables, and lots of floury gravy. It couldn't compare to the kitchens of the Fortress or Palace, but the meals Malon cooked were better than hard biscuits and jerky. It sufficed.

Ingo left to speak with Talon outside, while Link helped Malon clean up after Third Worship. She looked over at him as she scrubbed dishes, then bit her lip and looked away shyly. Link cocked an eyebrow, continuing to dry the wet dishes and utensils.

"Was there something you wanted to say?" He said aloud. She blinked in surprise.

"What?" Malon asked, taken aback.

"You keep looking at me. So I was wondering why." Malon sighed at that, and dropped her soft blue gaze to the floor, absently toying with a lock of auburn hair with sudsy fingers.

"Do you really have to go to Arryn?"

"Why?" Link wondered, a dreaded realization creeping up on him. Come on – he'd only been here for eight days! Why was this always happening to him?

"I was thinking… I thought you could stay here, with Daddy, Mister Ingo and me." Link's heart lurched. So he'd been correct.

"My only family is in Waysken. How else am I supposed to make a living when I'm grown, without family backing me? Besides, my uncle said he'd take me…"

"Forget about your uncle!" Malon said hotly, a flush racing to her cheeks. "You said yourself you barely know him. We like you here. You can help Mister Ingo do the chores, and Daddy can teach you to do the books and train the horses. Maybe you can even knock away those stupid ideas Ingo has about Gerudo horses and their superiority – they're as diseased as their breeders."

"Well, what if I want to be a bard?" Link returned quietly, ignoring the sting at the casual way she slurred his people, "There's no training in that to be found in Lon."

"You don't need to learn anything more, you're already good." Malon insisted, "I know you like music a lot, but you can play in the evenings with Mister Ingo. My voice is really good, so we can sing together whenever we want…"

"What if that's not enough?" Link returned, his mind churning with the effort to fend her clinging hopes away, "What if I get sick of the plains? I like forests better."

"That's stupid. On the Plains you can see for miles around. Everyone likes that!"

"No, Malon." He said a bit harshly, "I don't want that life. We're different people, and I don't want to live here much longer. Look, you're a nice girl, but I'm thirteen – I'm too young for love and that stuff. 'Live free' and all."

"But-!" Her entire face was turning red.

"I said no." Her eyes narrowed, spilling over with tears, and then she took the plate she'd been cleaning, and hurled it at his head. He ducked aside, reflexes kicking in, and the plate shattered itself against a wooden beam that held up the wall. Malon wiped at her tears angrily, and stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room, slamming the door loudly.

Ingo stuck his head into the kitchen.

"What was that?" He demanded, and Link bent to gather up the shattered bits of ceramic.

"I don't want to marry Malon. So I said so, and she threw a plate at me. That's what." The boy said ruefully. Ingo grinned.

"I don't blame you, boy. She's always had a temper, and Master Talon certainly don't discourage it."

"I suppose. Do you think this will cause any trouble tomorrow when I purchase Deste?"

"They can't force you to stay, and we do need the business. I'll do my best." Ingo said, and Link smiled at the man.

"Thank you, Master Ingo."

The skinny man with bristling brown hair shrugged brusquely.

"You've been a great help to me, boy, I need no thanks. Tomorrow morning will be here sooner than you'd think, with the days getting longer. So we'd better rest up now while the sun's still down."

Link knew an order when he heard one.

"Yes sir." They padded quietly upstairs, to Ingo's bedroom. Ingo took the bed, Link burrowed into his bedroll on the floor.

Link was used to reading before bed, but apparently the Longhearts didn't, so he simply laid in the dark stillness of an unlit bedroom, listening to the nightsingers' caroling coos and trills that echoed through the night. Link watched their shadows fly before the distant faces of the moons in intricately swirling swarms before finally closing his eyes, and giving himself up to sleep.

* * *

Morning dawned bright and early at eight. Link was awoken not by the Fortress bugle, nor the Palace bells, but instead by the raucous shrilling of the Long Lon Ranch's resident flock of dawngreeters, birds that welcomed the rising sun with piercing cries. It was, hopefully, the last day of Link's stay at the Ranch.

The dawngreeters shrieked once more, then burst into noisy, gossipy chatter. Ingo heaved himself out of bed with a groan. Link followed after him. Stretching and yawning, he stripped out of his night clothes and pulled a new day's outfit out of his rupee-studded pack.

Ingo and Link ate a quick morning meal of sausage and stewed tomatoes, washing it down with hot tea. Link felt somewhat guilty about eating meat at breakfast, but stayed firmly in his role as a non-Gerudo Southerner. They fed and watered the livestock, mucked out the stables, collected the eggs, and milked the cows, much as they had done for the past nine days.

More yards of fencing was repaired. Link and Ingo chatted easily now, speaking of the Imally Province.

"…And the Lost Woods itself is this huge mass of trees, and the ones on the edge of the forest have black trunks – something about the reaction to outside air or something. At night lights come from the paths inside, little will-o-wisps that get you lost until the forest takes you for its own. If you live in settlements on the frontier where they clear the forest for grazing or planting land, you have to wear special cloths over your face so you don't breathe in the poisonous fumes." Link said, borrowing Sir Fran's words to describe his fictional home. "The birds there are different, too. There are great hawks called Rocs, with wingspans twice as long as a large man is tall, so large they can carry off a child or a sheep. My favorites, though, are the brightingales."

"Brightingales?" Ingo wondered,

"Yeah, they're much like your Plain's nightingales, only brightly colored – with a purple head, green body, and a deep blue chest."

"They sound beautiful."

"Yes," Link sighed in false wistfulness, "But their songs are even more so."

In this way they wiled away the late morning repairing the peeling fences, until Talon rose for Second Worship and lunch. Malon was unusually quiet as she served the men salted fish and leftover potato dumplings with a brown sauce called _malka_.

"Well, m'boy," Talon began after he'd taken a long pull of ale, "Your time with us is up. Have you chosen which horse you'd like to purchase?"

"I've settled on Deste, Master Longheart." Link said, his tone polite.

"A fine horse, him. Are you sure you don't want to stay? My Malon is mighty fond of you, and you've proved you're a hard worker." Malon blushed prettily at that, turquoise gaze clinging to the young teen. "Why, there might even be a betrothal in the future, maybe. Who could say no to that?" Ingo winced and Link growled internally, but kept his face polite and earnest.

"You've been very hospitable, Master Longheart, but I fear I've stayed long enough. I need my family now, and it would insult my uncle, who has already begun making preparations for my arrival. I like Deste, and I'm sure he'll easily bear me to Waysken." Malon and Talon's faces fell. Talon gave a great, heavy sigh, smoothing his bushy mustache with plump fingers.

"Then let's get to it, then." He said, his voice losing its false heartiness and taking on a rather whining tone, similar to Ingo's. Talon named an outrageous price, which Link countered with a much lower but not insulting offer. They haggled back and forth, Talon trying to raise the price above his first offer, and the Gerudo boy was grateful he'd already purchased the necessary tack from Ingo days earlier, which the ranch hand _was_ allowed to sell, at least. Who knew what the price of Deste might be if Talon Longheart hadn't been selling more than one thing at once?

Talon seemed intent on cheating Link, so Link pulled out what the Gerudos called 'the hidden blade' when it came to dickering – a plea for mercy.

"Be generous, Master Longheart – I've been working hard on the Long Lon Ranch for two weeks now." He pleaded softly, and Talon waved it off.

"That was earning your keep, m'boy." Link ground his teeth.

_I am _not _your boy!_ He thought fiercely, but his face was placid on the outside.

"Then for the sake of our friendship, sir, for I need enough money to reach Waysken. Someday in the future I might wish to visit you and Miss Malon, but if I pay your unusually high price, at this rate I'll be forced to take my business somewhere else – somewhere that does not ignore ten day's labor as a mere courtesy." Malon gasped softly, and touched her father's elbow.

"If it's such a trial to pay, why not simply stay and have no need of a horse of your own?"

"Greed is not a virtue, Master Talon." Ingo said, and Talon frowned slowly.

"Neither is gambling, Ingo. Why don't you check on the horses? Only those things concern you." Ingo flushed with rage and shame as he turned on his heel to storm out the door.

"Doesn't concern me? _I'll 'concern' you…!_" He fumed under his breath, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake loose a layer of dust from between the boards of the ceiling. Malon's eyes were wide.

At last Link and Talon Longheart hammered out a deal – and Link came out ahead only by the skin of his teeth. He insisted on signing the contract right then and there, blood stains and all, so the greedy ranch owner couldn't renege on the deal.

Link declined Talon's offer to see him off – he gathered up his things in Ingo's room, and headed for the stables. Ingo was waiting for him there, Deste already saddled and bridled in pale leather tack. Deste whuffled softly as Link rubbed his forehead and neck gently, pushing his head against the boy's shoulder. Link fastened his pack to the back of the saddle with the proper fastenings provided.

The boy led his new gelding out of the stable, and let Ingo give him a leg up into the stirrup, then swung his other leg over the saddle, settling into the correct seated posture.

"You should get out, Master Ingo." He murmured quietly, "They don't appreciate you."

"It's a matter of family pride, boy." Ingo said, repeating his words from many days ago.

"Very well." Link replied, backing down. "I hope you do well." With a bang, Malon burst out of the house, running straight for the Gerudo boy and his steed before Ingo could reply.

"Don't go!" She shouted, tears streaming down freckled cheeks, "Please, Link! I'll do anything, just please, don't leave!" Talon Longheart, Master of Long Lon Ranch watched from the door.

"Say whatever you want, Miss Malon," Link said stiffly, enjoying the flinch he received from her, "You belittled my family, your father did his best to cheat me despite my days of labor on his behalf. You don't even treat your only uncle with a bit of kindness. Why _wouldn't_ I want to leave?"

"I didn't mean it!" She pleaded.

"Life is not a drama, or some fairytale! And anyways - bah, I don't care anymore. I'm _leaving._ A good day to you, Master Ingo, Master Talon, Miss Malon." He nudged Deste's speckled grey flanks, and the horse broke into a trot.

Link didn't look back as he left the Ranch, stonily gazing forward. When he was a mile or so away, and the buildings of the Ranch were small, he looked back only once, then smiled to be free what had, increasingly, felt like a trap.

He felt strangely liberated, from Talon Longheart's sloth, from Ingo's self-imposed prison, from Malon's stubborn naïveté.

_He was no one's prince charming.

* * *

_

1. "Live free and work hard." Is the motto of Imally. I imagine the people of Imally are like a cross between early Americans and Germans. Don't ask me why. They just are, in my mind.

2. On Hyrule, and throughout much of Vanity, song birds sing in the night much like they do in the mornings on Earth. Thus songbirds are referred to as daysingers or nightsingers.

3. Brightingales are parrot-like siblings of nightingales. Unlike the more drab little birds, they are awake during the day.

4. Rocs have a twelve foot long wingspan, and live in the warm climes of the South. They can be found near cliffs or high trees. Their prey is deer, cattle, sheep, and other similarly sized grazers. On occasion Rocs will become man-eaters, but most Rocs stop after the first person they've eaten – most humanoids have far too much bone and gristle to adequately fulfill a Roc's dietary needs.

5. It is only a fictional truth that roosters crow at dawn. Actually, roosters crow whenever they feel like it. Dawngreeters are little, black sparrow-like birds that sing quite prettily during the day, but greet the rising sun with very loud, obnoxious screaming. Dawngreeters are kept domestically in locales out of the auditory range of a belltower.

6. _Malka_ is a savory brown condiment somewhere along the line between soy sauce and fish sauce.

7. As you may have noticed, I greatly prefer Zelda over Malon. For me, it all comes down to the way they react to adversity – Malon cowers and dreams of a savior, while Zelda gets up and fights back after losing everything.

8. Okay, it was a bit dramatic, but hey – these are teens. And Link isn't perfect. This chapter was actually a bit more dramatic than I liked at first, so there was a lot of editing done before I felt okay to post this – as it was even harsher on Malon than even I feel appropriate.

* * *

Reviews make me very happy.


	36. Grassbow

Hello good readers! This'uns a big one, and gave me no end of trouble.

As of now, this story has 411 reviews, 46,000 hits, 157 favs, 168 alerts, and 8 C2s. Wow!

Anyways, please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five: Of Grassbow**

"Warm wind blowing over the earth  
Sky blue  
I sing through the land, the land sings through me  
Sky blue  
Reaching into the deepest shade of  
Sky blue

Sky blue  
So tired of all this travelling  
So many miles away from home  
I keep moving to be stable  
Free to wander, free to roam"

(Sky Blue ~ Peter Gabriel)

* * *

Link was quickly grateful for his decision to buy Deste – for all too soon the scrub and prairie of the Plains turned into steep, featureless grassland. He and his horse were climbing the massive, grassy ridge that marked the highest point of the Central Hyrulean Plains. Link and Deste struggled up the rocky path to the flat surface of the verdant mesa's top, and gasped when he saw Grassbow looming at the edge of the horizon.

The city itself was a blocky mass of red-brown buildings, nothing special, except for the towering windmills that topped every single block, slowly turning with the strong wind that blew over the long mesa. The sails of the windmills varied in size, shape, and color, but most were white rectangles, four sails to each tower. It was breath-taking.

As he grew closer, Link could hear the grinding groan of the sails turning over the sound of the wind singing through the tall golden grass. Grassbow was contained by four walls, a wind tower in each corner of the square barrier. He got in line to enter the city, avoiding the gaze of the gatekeepers by mingling himself into a train of farmer's carts.

The streets of Grassbow weren't as crowded as Mudwater's had been. Nothing, of course, could compare to the bustle of the Capitol. Mud bricks seemed to be the local choice for building material – there were few stone quarries in the Plains, and trees were completely absent from the mesa tablelands near and around Grassbow. What little wood was available was reserved for the sails of the windmills. Within Grassbow, were some of the largest mills in all Hyrule. Much of the Plain's grain was ground in this city, almost entirely by wind power.

Link idly found his way to a few supply shops, where he replenished his stock of water-purifying powder, arrow-fletchings, hard biscuits, and dried fruit. Around Second Worship the crowd faded to a few dregs of unbelievers. As the bells of the local cathedral began to ring, Link found a clean space in a courtyard set aside for stall keepers and travelers, and prostrated himself on the swept rock bricks, slowly counting the seconds until the ending bell rang, so as not to truly pray. The cathedral rang the end of the prayer, and daily life resumed.

Link enjoyed a tomato and cheese melted sandwich for lunch, followed by a skewer of grilled sour chicken from a vendor. A cheap mug of tea satisfied his need for a pick-me-up, and then he went around the city looking for a good tavern to stay the night at. He found one a few streets down from the traveler's prayer square, by the name of the _Fat Pony_. With those reservations made, and Deste properly stabled and fed, he explored the city looking for some kind of entertainment to last until nightfall.

Entertainment came in the form of a crowd around the mouth of a theatre. Intrigued, Link let himself be drawn in. Large posters were pasted to the walls outside the small theatre, declaring –

Milltown Theatre!

featuring

Willam Firstman:

actor

storyteller

genius extraordinaire!

To be followed by a jig from the performers the Wheat Uppers.

That seemed a bit much for a two-bit player, thought Link, but he paid the twenty rupee entrance fee, then a second, ten-rupee charge so he could actually sit on a chair rather than stand on the ground amongst the groundlings – who, he had heard, were a rather rowdy crowd.

Those same groundlings were getting impatient and more and more loud, when a brightly clad man strode onto the narrow, warped stage.

"_Belay it all, be quiet, you culture-less, incoherent imbeciles!_" He roared, and the packed theatre went silent. "Silence is needed now, my friends. Silence." The actor said silkily, "Only with silence, can you hear the stars sing, hear the whispers of the world under your feet. Only with _silence_, my good people, can you hear the story that I, Willam Firstman, will tell to you now."

Here the supposed Willam Firstman bowed to the crowd, with an articulate flourish of his feather hat. "Few have not heard of me – when the Goddesses first created the world, I was the first mortal to walk its ground, to sample its many delights. Only once I proved myself did they create more. When I had a son, I passed my name down to him. My father was Willam Firstman, just as I am, as my son is as well. I am one of many, all, and alone. Mine is an old tradition, an old craft. So do not fear – my words are true.

"Today, I tell the tale of King Harkinian the Great! The first Hyrulean King, the builder of our mighty country."

* * *

A thousand years ago, a son was born to the Hylian king Handen, who ruled the mountain reaches north of Arryn. The babe was no firstborn son – no, he was the second child of king Handen's third wife, the fifth son to bear the king's blood. Those were ancient days, when many men wed multiple wives, if they could afford it. The old king named his son Harkinian, and bestowed upon him the title of baron and the inheritance of Hag's Peak Valley, a land of high, hanging valleys and tarns. So young Harkinian spent his childhood in the castle in Hightop Valley, the center of Handen's mountain kingdom. He was a bright lad, quick with the sword and sharp-eyed with the bow. Oh, how his mother Gedasa loved him! Harkinian was raised in the manner of the mountain elves – strictly in tune with nature – in ways we Hylians have long lost to generations of flatlanders, but for those hoary tribes still roaming the Curled Backbones. Imagine! A whole way of life lost to the descendants of those who dared climb down from the cloud and rock of the heights!

Pale-haired, Harkinian was, hair as pale as raw silk, and dark-eyed enough to see no difference between pupil and iris. Many a warrior was unnerved by those unfathomable eyes! Unusually tall and broad shouldered, he was, a giant of a man.

He took over the ruling-seat of Hag's Peak when he reached his majority at sixteen, but the valley was nothing but rock, clinging shrubs, and the huts of the valley people he ruled. Bitter and dry was the wind that blew through those perilous heights, and empty were the bellies of the serfs in even the best of times. In the lean times even Harkinian hunted in the wilds for a goat or sheep to grace his table at suppertime. He went up to the shrine on Hag's Peak, to a soothsayer to find if this was what his life was to be, and the old man – a venerable hermit, told him to accept his lot in life, to find a wife and settle down and live among the rocks of the gravelly mountain pass through which no travelers no longer journeyed.

So young Harkinian bowed his head at the man's wisdom, walking down the mountain slowly, his future weighing heavily on his shoulders. As he went down towards the valley, a wind blew the clouds away from between the teeth of the mountains, and Harkinian saw the green and browns of the flatlands, stretching out for miles. Those rich colors entranced the young baron, who was so used to the blues and greys of the shade in the mountain passes.

He hungered for that land, with its rich possibilities, and made his mind up there and then. He would not accept his lot in life, he would not find a woman of the mountains to marry. He would not settle down.

So he returned to Hag's Peak Valley, and mustered everyone who would go to the flatlands. He left a deputy to rule in his place. When the snow had finally melted in the high passes, Harkinian and his subjects climbed down from the mountains, heading south.

They climbed down, and down, and down. Finally, at the base of the mountains, they made camp and spent the night there. This place they named Flatland, just as it is known as now. The party of fifty made their way to the banks of the Zora River, where they were able to live off the land far easier than they had in the mountains. It finally dawned upon Harkinian's subjects that this was their new home – and they began to build a settlement, naming it Riversbank.

But the flatlands were not entirely unoccupied – the mountain people had wandered into the territory of the Fire Birds, a Sheikah tribe. At first it seemed that the Fire Birds might wage war on the growing little settlement, but Harkinian managed to parlay his way to the leader of the tribe - Halkan. A wager was struck – if Harkinian could defeat the strongest warrior in the Fire Birds, the mountain elves could stay in Riversbank, so long as they sent warriors to fight with the tribe when war came around. Harkinian agreed, fought, and won with ease.

Harkinian was not happy merely joining the tribe. He wanted to run the tribe itself. With Halkan growing older, Harkinian began to woo the stern, steel-haired Ganhala, daughter of the tribe leader. She spurned him, saying he was not warrior enough for her. He began to bring her game, flowers from the river, carved ivory jewelry. Ganhala again asked him why he was bothering her so. When he protested his love to her, his strength, she bid him to build her a war lodge, finer than those of the Fire Birds. He agreed, and built a lodge from dogwood and willow. But still Ganhala would not submit. She told Harkinian to lead a war party and defeat the Sick Wolves, the Ten Hand's neighbor and enemy, and take over their territory. So he gathered together a party of both tribesmen and his own warriors and waged war on the Sick Wolves until they pled for mercy and willingly joined the Fire Birds.

Ganhala was waiting for Harkinian when he returned. Again he asked for her hand. Again she refused! Thank the Goddesses women these days know their place! But in those days, the Sheikah valued women just as much as their men.

Harkinian asked what he must do next, and she told him he must go into the forest, and find the great tree held sacred by Farore, clearly marked by the feather tassels that decorated it, and make a sacrifice of a young goat, burnt on the rock below the great roots, as a holocaust to the patron Goddess of the Sheikah. Harkinian chose a firstborn kid, and led it into the forest. Between the man and the tree ran a deep stream. Harkinian swam halfway across the wide, fat creek when a whirlpool formed close to where he floated. In his haste to get away, he let go of the rope connected to the goat sacrifice, and the animal was sucked in. Harkinian managed to escape, but his sacrifice was lost. He did not know that that whirlpool was sacred to the Goddess Nayru. Thus, instead of earning Farore's favor, he won the interest of Nayru the Blue. With his sacrifice gone, he took his bow and shot down a hind to replace the kid he had lost in the stream, and burnt it at the rock Ganhala had described. Then he returned to Riversbank to speak to Ganhala once more.

"When," Harkinian said to her, "Will all I have done for you be enough? I have fought for you, built the lodge you live in, hunted for you, and burnt sacrifices to your patron Goddess. I will not wait any longer."

"Cross the river and make peace with the Ten Hands, my uncle's tribe, and I will be satisfied." Ganhala said, so off Harkinian went to parlay with the Ten Hands, his war party following him. When that was over, he saw that the land the Ten Hands lived in was even richer than that of the Fire Birds, and determined to take it for his own one day. Rather than return right away, he ventured east beyond the lands of the Ten Hands, into the land around present-day Stonewall. He and his men walked beyond the foothills, and saw the vast green and gold expanse of the Plains. From where he stood, Harkinian could see a mighty foothill rising above all the others, so large the Zora River curled around it rather than carve through it.

Now, Harkinian liked his life in the flatlands. Life was better, hunting easier, the climes warmer and more temperate. But he was mountain-bred, and still attributed safety to high ground. He desired that steep-sloped hill as much as he had the flatlands, but knew that now was not the time to take it for himself. Instead, he returned victorious to Ganhala once more.

She was waiting for him on the mountain's side of the river, clad in bridal yellow, Sheikah colors. Harkinian crossed the river, and she took him into her arms.

"Woman," he said, "I have done all you have told me to. Will you wed me?"

"I keep my oaths." She said, "I will marry you, and bear your children, and rule when you are away."

They returned to Riversbank, where the people threw wheat grains over their heads for a fruitful marriage. They did not have tattoos carved into their hands, as was traditional among the Sheikah and still is for those few left. Ganhala took Harkinian into the lodge he had built for her, and there they were wed. As was traditional for Sheikah and elf alike, the newly weds spent the next week in the lodge of dogwood and willow. Their neighbors and friends cooked their meals for them, and each brought them a useful present for their married life.

When the week was over, Harkinian began training the warriors of the Fire Birds harder than he had before. By then, he was known as the best war captain in the tribe, so the warriors followed him without question. With the permission of Halkan, the leader of the Fire Birds and the father of Ganhala, Harkinian took half of the tribe's fighters south across the Zora River to the Shadestall region at the base of the Southwestern Backbones, and handily conquered the Shade people there. Harkinian returned victorious, and found that the leader Halkan had passed away in the weeks the elvish conqueror had been gone. He found his home burnt to the ground, and his place at the council fire fouled. Ganhala he found safe, and he discovered that in his absence the boastful, purist Tiernan had taken over. Tiernan had been jealous of Harkinian's feats and power. He was especially angered that Harkinian, who was not Sheikah, had such influence in the tribe.

Well! There was nothing else to do! Harkinian thought to rally his men to him, slay Tiernan and his followers, and take the leader's seat. The night before he was going to act, in a rough shed he'd built for the night, the goddess Nayru came to him, warning that to take violent action against Tiernan was to face his own defeat. Instead she told him what he must do.

The next morning he woke Ganhala, telling her,

"In two days you will make your venison stew, and wheat cakes. Dress in your finest gown, go to his house, and offer the food, then yourself to Tiernan. As he eats, serve him wine made from rose hips. His body sees roses and their fruit as poison. In this way we will triumph."

"So we must win only through trickery?" Ganhala asked, and Harkinian replied,

"I have done many things for you. It is time for you to obey your husband, wife." At this the woman grew angry.

"I did it because I knew you could be great if you were pressed into action. And I was right. My reasons were sound." She said. Harkinian sighed, and kissed her then.

"And so are my reasons. Ganhala, you must do this."

"Very well." She said, and began making the preparations for the meal she would seduce Tiernan with. Harkinian went out that day and shot down a fat doe. Ganhala stewed the meat with herbs, roots, and tubers. She baked golden wheat cakes, and studded them with dried cranberries. Then she bartered her favorite shawl for a skin of rose hip wine. Finally, Ganhala bathed, braided her hair, and put on a woad-blue dress.

She went to Tiernan's door, and asked to be let in, which he did willingly, for she was beautiful for a Sheikah woman, and he had lusted after her. Harkinian's wife spoke flatteringly to him, and bid him eat of the food she had brought. When he grew thirsty, she poured him a cup of rose hip wine. Tiernan drank a sip, then asked her,

"What wine is this?"

"It is fruit wine." She replied.

"Not rose hip wine?" He asked with suspicion, and she raised her hands.

"As you can see, my hands are not scratched from rose thorns. Besides, it is the season for wild cherries, not rose hips." That satisfied him, and he began to drink greedily.

At last the poison came over him, and with a gasp and a mighty shudder, he slipped into the hands of cold death. Ganhala smiled, and ate the rest of the stew as he died. When she was certain he was truly dead, she took his sword from his belt, and cut off his head.

This is why people today say, when a woman rejects a man's advances, he has 'been served rose hip wine.'

So Harkinian became leader of the Fire Birds.

He began to make changes quickly, using more and more elvish customs than he had when Ganhala's father had lived. He named himself King, and named the Fire Bird's territory Arryn, for the name of the star sign he had been born under. King Harkinian then sent a message to Ganhala's uncle, who led the Ten Hands across the river.

'I am determined to make the Ten Hands' territory my own. I am a strong leader – the Sick Wolves chose to join with me rather than fight, the Shade people fell under my army's might. You yourself have lost to me, but you are family, so I will warn you now, that if your men do not surrender to my forces when they come, you too will fall under their blades.'

Ganhala's uncle chose to fight, and then the Ten Hands tribe was no more.

By this time, Harkinian was thirty, and his kingdom covered all of present-day Arryn. He battled his way back to the great foothill he desired so much, and standing at its base, he turned pleased eyes on the summit, and with his people, began to climb to the top. At the crown of the hill, he built his castle in the style of the mountain elves, and named it 'High Rule.'

Back in Riversbank, Ganhala gave birth to a son, and in her husband's absence, named the boy Harkinian the Second. When the last stones were set and the mortar dry in the castle walls at High Rule, Harkinian sent for Ganhala and his son, and housed them safely in the new fortress.

His kingdom established and his ambitions satisfied but not yet run dry, he sent a letter of regal greeting to King Handen of Hightop Valley, his father. The reply, months later made it clear that while the King Handen did not wish to exert power over the distasteful flatlands, some of Harkinian's elder brothers did not feel the same, and felt that family land, new or not, should go to the heirs of the line, not the youngest son. Handen closed the letter with his pride in his long-absenced son, and a warning that Harkinian's brothers Palen and Arlenian might be making a ill-intentioned visit in the future.

So Harkinian began to further fortify his castle at High Rule, and the city Riversbank, as well as the more important towns in Arryn.

Ganhala grew with child yet again, and birthed Handen the Third, in honor of Harkinian's father. Harkinian wished to conquer more of the land east of High Rule, and rather than wait to see if his brothers would attack, decided to go ahead with his plans despite it all.

"After all," He said to Ganhala, "First they must gather their armies, and winter is still heavy in the mountains. They will have to wait until summer, when supplies are available. They would not beggar their own armies like that, and they are not used to flatland life." Harkinian prudently did not reach too far, however, and only expanded north to the base of the mountains above High Rule, and a little further south, towards the Plains.

A season went by, summer came. And no envious brothers came to knock at High Rule's door. Palen's army miraculously perished in a freak blizzard in late March. Arlenian took this as a sign that the Goddesses were on Harkinian's side, and called off his soldier's preparations to march down into the flatlands. Ganhala bore twin girls – Linalda and Denisla, and Harkinian expanded his kingdom west to present day Patcheem.

Years passed, Ganhala had two more sons, Danal and Trenalan. Unlike his father, Harkinian did his best to instill loyalty into his sons, towards their father, and towards each other. Ganhala continued to run the household with a hand as steely as her hair. Late in her motherly cycle, she gave birth to a final child – Angres.

In that year, Harkinian made several sacrifices to Nayru to give thanks for Ganhala's continued health despite her advanced age and such a difficult birth. Finally, Nayru came down from the sky to ask what Harkinian wanted after making such a tribute to her. Harkinian pled with the Goddess to become his kingdom's patron goddess.

Now back then, such a thing was unheard of. Each individual might have a different goddess who favored them, with the exception of Din, who jealously adored the Gerudo people, and them alone.

Nayru thought long and hard over whether to grant his request. Harkinian waited three days until she made her decision, and there, at the wooded base of the hill at High Rule, Nayru became the patron of the kingdom which was then called High Rule, but is now Hyrule. Her choice made, she departed from that small clearing in the woods, and upon that spot where she rose back into the sky, Harkinian Hyrule began to build a mighty temple in her honor, which would be completed by his grandson, King Harkinian the Third.

Years passed, Hyrule's borders ever growing, and finally Ganhala passed away one frosty winter morn. In his grief, Harkinian stepped down from the throne and let his son Harkinian the Second take the crown in his place. The great king retired to the Rosethorn estate, which had been a favorite escape for Ganhala, where he lived out the rest of his days, loved and respected by all who did not fear him.

And so, with his death, comes the end of this story, a tale of the father of our country, a leader, a lover, a pious man who secured Nayru's grace for all Hylians! Think hard and fondly when you recall the legend of King Harkinian the Great! I bid you all a fair day and a silent night!

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Willam Firstman bowed, then slid offstage as the second act whirled onstage, four dancers in frayed costumes doing a jig to music played from somewhere behind the theatre's _skene_. As the audience began to clap in time with the jig, Link slipped out of the crowd, out of the theatre, and into the streets, where he wandered until his belly announced its hunger. He bought a meat-and-steamed-sprout bun from a vendor, eating thoughtfully.

So that was the great forefather of the Hylian conquerors? So that was the bloodthirsty, ambitious soul who could not be satisfied with a decent living? It was an entertaining tale to be true, but Link suddenly pitied the Sheikah whose lands Harkinian the Great had taken for his own. They too had been cast out, possessions and lives ripped asunder. If that legend was common knowledge, why then did the pale-haired, ruby-eyed shadow people bow their heads and pledge loyalty to the descendants of such a brutal legacy?

It made no sense to the boy. Link knew what he would choose – defiance over subservience.

Slowly, he came back to himself, the multitudinous creaking of the windmills drawing out awe and wonder over pensiveness.

He took a deep breath, and found his way back to his lodgings.

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1. I have big plans for Kakariko – so big I took the Windmill alone and made a city out of it.

2. Hyrule was in the end of its bronze-age when Harkinian ruled. Hyrule was formed two thousand years ago, and Harkinian ruled about twelve hundred years ago. There was a technology setback when the races of Hyrule took shelter in the small country and walled it off from the world.

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I like reviews!


	37. Unexpected Hospitality

I'm back, everyone. This may or may not be filler, but it's vitally important to the plot, if not apparently so. Chapter 37 was a killer to write - the largest chapter ever, for me. Anyways, please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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Chapter Thirty-Six: Of Unexpected Hospitality

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Riding Deste, it took a week and a half, rather than three, to get from white-sailed Grassbow to Hestoppe, a small town on the inner side of the Zora River. As Link searched for a good place to ford the river, he ran across a troop of soldiers, their blue and brass shoulder-slides signifying they came from Patcheem, as opposed to the gold and crimson that marked the royal general army. They stopped him briefly, but a boy on a horse citing urgent business was less suspicious than a boy alone on foot, so they let him go, after advising Link to cross the river at Pauline.

The territory beyond the river got hilly very quickly, then rocky. Mountain ash and evergreens seemed to be the dominant trees growing on the scruffs and slopes. Star flowers sprinkled the sparse grass and creeping vines. At last, Link and the faithful Deste left the sight of the Plains, climbing further and further into the grasp of the mountains.

It was not always a safe climb. One afternoon, Link was startled from his easy seat on Deste's back by the howl of a Wolfos. Deste flattened his ears back, the whites of his eyes showing, but obediently stopped and did not bolt under his master's firm hand. The massive canine loped out from underneath a shaggy stand of evergreens, its menacing growl hungry. Link drew his sword and wheeled Deste to face the beast, just as the wolf sprang at them, more interested in the Hylian than the horse. Up came Link's heavy boot, and something crunched in the canine's muzzle. It wailed and backpedaled, blood spraying from its broken nose, and a sharp cut from Link's sword across its silver ruff sent it fleeing into the underbrush, huffing out pained cries that faded with its quick retreat.

Link sighed, cleaned the blood off his sword and boot, then set about to calm Deste down. He smoothed the grey dapple's mane gently, crooning praise to the frightened gelding until the horse was soothed and was affectionately lipping Link's hands. The boy gave his steed a last, affectionate rub between the eyes, before mounting up and continuing on.

The road was hard, and winding. At some points one side of the path dropped into a sheer drop, making Link very glad he wasn't the slightest bit afraid of heights. The spring days were getting longer, but he stopped whenever there was a clearing flat and secure enough to camp in. The nights were cold, so Link made sure to cover Deste up with his horse blanket every evening.

At last, Cragshead Mountain, with its snow cap and jagged peaks, loomed into view from behind the smaller mountains, signaling the end of Link's journey to Kakariko. Halfway around, Link and Deste ran into a pair of rock Tektites – which Deste, without any prompting from his rider, chased off the path and then trotted glibly past them down the road, unhindered. Link laughed, slapped the grey on the neck, and grabbed for the reins. Deste snorted, as if to say, _'they weren't _that_ tough.'_

Climbing down into the valley made by the Cricka River, a smaller river that fed into the mighty Zora, Link should have been able to see the smoke from Kakariko, but the rising wind whipped it away, the cloudy sky a sullen pale grey.

Snow began to fall, lightly at first, then heavier, more and more, until Link couldn't see the path in front of Deste's hooves. Sure he could not reach the city safely, he turned his steed aside into the low, overhanging shelter of a thick patch of spruces, and after blanketing Deste, he bid his horse kneel down. Link draped the tent cloths over them both, pulling off his jacket, putting on more layers of clothing from his pack, then replaced his coat. He curled up in his bedroll and blanket, and snuggled against Deste's side, ready to wait out the storm. Link was just grateful he was in the relative shelter of the valley, instead of the exposed rock of Cragshead Mountain. Surely the storm would be brief – it was well into spring and the warmth typically drove the snow away quickly.

It was too cold for even nightmares.

Link was awoken by the insistent nudging of Deste's head. He struggled weakly to sit upright, drawn further into consciousness by hot horse breath. The snow had stopped falling, but there was at least a foot or two on the ground.

Link noted with dismay that the ends of his fingers were numb and strangely colored. He rubbed feeling back into them painfully, then stamped warmth into his booted feet. He saddled and bridled Deste once more. The climb into the saddle was awkward, but he managed, and was shocked to see it was already many hours past noon when he glanced up at the sun's position. The trip into the valley was difficult and arduous with all the snow on the ground. He found the bridge across the Clicka after getting lost several times, and then set out to climb the valley path up to Kakariko.

The way was hard, and night fell before he could reach the city limits. No snow fell, but the night was colder than the last, and wind blew the snow in its drifts across the ground in swirling eddies that blinded. There was no shelter to be found in which to out wait the night out this time, and the snow wasn't deep enough to dig a cave into, so Link and Deste glumly continued on.

They had reached a dark, open place where the snow accumulated in strange, looming drifts when Link's last dregs of energy gave out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell.

Then there was nothing but darkness, and cold, and cold,

and cold

and great hands lifting up

movement shifting

a concerned voice?

no, it couldn't, could it

rusty hinges and a sudden warmth.

And darkness.

The shriek of a kettle woke him this time around. Link was rather surprised to find himself lying down, warm and cozy, if very stiff. His sight was very blurry, and he blinked frantically to clear it, to no avail. A low ceiling and a lit stove refused to resolve themselves to his liking. His breath caught in his dry throat and coughs racked his body.

"Ah!" An old man's voice wheezed, "Kat, my sweet, our guest is awake."

"Hm?" Inquired a girl's soft, lilting voice, "Ah, so he is. Well, I've milk toast and, soon as not, hot tea for that one. Should lift the damp right out." She stepped close enough into the light for Link to see her – his poor eyesight could only make out a short girl, probably two or three years younger than him, and bright hair somewhere between red and true gold. The girl - Kat, apparently – lifted up a lamp to better examine him, illuminating the narrow nook that the cot was wedged into. "Look at me, dear. I need to see your eyes." Link obeyed, and she sat back on the edge of the little bed, and shook her head. "Pupils still constricted. It'll take day or so, by my guess, for you to get your sight rightly back."

"What?" He croaked, and she laughed at him.

"You're a mess, and should know better than to sleep on someone else's grave without their permission. Spooks don't like it much – so that one laid a trick on you, and that was what got you ill. If you behave yourself, she might let you go sooner than two days." When he frowned at her in confusion, she sighed. "We found you in the graveyard, out cold. You've been here at least four days."

"Where am I?"

"In the hospitality of Dampe the Grave keeper, right on the outskirts of Kakariko."

"Kattala! Tea's ready." Said the old man, his voice deep enough that Link judged he would probably be barrel-chested.

"Ta, dear." Kattala said, and busied herself with the kettle and a mug. Dampe, a stocky old man, probably in his hundreds already, held the rough plate of milk toast as she fussed over the stove. "You're rather lucky, you know." She said over her shoulder to Link, "If you hadn't been cursed, you might have succumbed to the cold or come down with the lung-chills, like as not. But when the dead curse you, the curse comes first. There's no dying to be done 'til you're done suffering." Done with the mug, she walked over to the bed-nook. Dampe helped Link sit up, shoving a thin pillow between his back and the wooden wall. Link took the cup of tea carefully, and drank gratefully but carefully. It was an herbal tea, strong and sweet. When the elderly man was sure Link could manage on his own, he patted Kattala on her bright head affectionately.

"You keep watch over him, child. I've my rounds to do." He said and she nodded, hopping up onto a stool by the bed and swinging her short legs absently back and forth. Dampe left, locking the door behind him. Kattala reached over and turned the lamp shutters open wider, filling the shack with light. It was then that Link noticed there was something wrong with her nose. To his blurred vision, it appeared strangely lopsided. Odd.

"Would you like that toast now?" She asked, "Or would you like to keep gawking?"

"Sorry," He muttered, then added, "And yes, please." Kattala quickly cut the milk toast into bite sized pieces and handed him a pair of eating sticks, to his surprise that she might have Southern utensils in such a Northern area. He ate slowly, his fingers still stiff from their exposure to the cold. The warm toast itself was rough-grained, soaked in milk, honey, and the slightest bit of cinnamon and clove. Kattala pressed another cup of tea on him, then poured one for herself. With his stomach full, before he knew it, Link's eyes began to droop. His young nurse rescued the earthen mug before he could spill it, then helped the older boy lay down. He was asleep before she could pull up the blanket.

Kattala went back to her stool, drinking sweet tea slowly, legs swinging and grey-green eyes watching her charge carefully.

She was still there the next morning when Link woke. He stretched carefully, feeling much better, and found his eyes could focus as well, now. He looked down at the floor, and saw Kattala sleeping on his unrolled bedroll, his blanket folded up into a pillow. Her face was peaceful, blanket and hair all but obscuring it.

She pulled her hand away from her face, and Link's stomach lurched, then flopped over in disgust. Her face – which might have been pretty – was utterly marred by a sunken-in cheekbone and a nose that had clearly been broken so badly it was smashed to the sunken side of her face. He hadn't noticed earlier, with his vision shot by the curse which must have worn off in the night.

He looked away, and swallowed the nausea down. Then he looked again, forcing himself not to feel ill. The deformity consisted only of her nose and her left cheekbone. Her mouth was a little coral rosebud, the chin delicate. Her brows and eyelashes were a light brown, her ears the same comforting roundness Keen's had been, and she wore no magic-regulating ear cuff. Pretty. She would have been a pretty girl if not for the unfortunate nose and cheek.

As if hearing his thoughts, she blinked and sat up.

"Mornin'." Kattala mumbled.

"Good morning." Link replied, "I'm feeling much better, thanks to you."

"Think nothing of it. Any decent person would've helped."

"Are you the grave keeper's daughter?" He wondered, and she turned sharp, almond-shaped eyes on him.

"Why? Because I'm ugly?" Kattala asked quietly, without much bitterness. Link blinked.

"No!" He said, backpedaling.

"Well then, why? That's the only thing that makes us alike, see. Well, sides from the graves."

"Er, why couldn't it be the way he was acting towards you?" Link paused awkwardly, then added, "Sorry."

"He's not my father. He's a good friend, is all."

"I see."

"Hmph." She said, then cocked her head slightly. "You feel well enough to walk? It wouldn't be more than a dozen yards. Mister Dampe needs his bed back – he's too old to sleep on the floor more than once, and money is too dear to have a sick guest for long." Link frowned thoughtfully, then stretched slowly to test his body.

"I think so." He said, sitting up further. "Where would we be going?"

"To the house I live in, mid-town Kakariko - my Master's household."

"You don't live with your family?" Link asked bluntly. He was feeling much better, but there was a lingering tiredness in his bones, and he was too achy for subtlety.

"No, I was apprenticed to Master Tangle since I was nine. I've lived with him the three years since."

"That would make you twelve, then." Link said thoughtlessly, and she smiled impishly.

"Just a year younger than you, I judge. You ask a lot of questions for a sick man." Link flushed, and went silent. "Stay here, please. I'll get Dampe." She slid off the high stool, and left the shack.

Kattala returned a dozen minutes later, with the grave keeper in tow. Dampe helped Link up, and Link discovered Kattala was sturdy, but tiny enough to be the perfect height to use as a crutch. Together, the girl and the old man got the weakened boy onto a battered cart, a shabby farmer sitting impatiently in the driver's seat. Dampe returned to his house to get Link's heavy pack and bedroll, and heaved them into the bed of the cart.

"Thank you for saving me, sir." He said politely, and the man nodded.

"T'was nothing. I'd just as soon not need to dig a new grave, all for a little evil on my soul." Dampe said easily, then looked to Kattala, who had climbed into the cart next to Link. "Kat, take good care of him, and be sure to come for the funeral on Starsday."

"I will, Dampe." She said, smiling, then turned to the driver. "Mister Claral, we're ready too leave now, thanks." Mister Claral nodded stiffly, and clucked to the powerful blood bay nag hitched to the wagon, and the cart started with a lurch. They left the massive graveyard for a narrow brick road winding down the steep slope to the city. Slowly, the memorials and mausoleums were shrouded by the morning mist until distance faded them out of sight.

The cart shook and swayed as they rattled down the road. Kattala reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. She opened the bundle and handed Link a pair of oatcakes studded with raisins. He gnawed on it carefully, and washed the food down with water from the offered canteen in Kattala's little hands.

The roofs of Kakariko quickly appeared over the treetops of the wooded road, all red, faded black, and grey slate slopes, smoke curling from circular chimneys. Once they were through the brick arch that defined the entrance to Kakariko, Link could see and hear clamor of the traffic on the city streets.

As it was Sunday, and thus the day after the holy day of rest, all the merchants and vendors were anxious to get a head start on the new business week. Mister Claral paid no attention to the braying of the vendors hawking their wares and produce. Link followed the man's lead and examined the city instead. It was located in the nook between Cragshead Mountain, the Clicka River, and Death Mountain, built on massive, ancient terraces in the valley on the lee side of the great volcano's feet. Looking up, Link could see that a giant ridge far above the terraces would redirect any resulting lava from the kind of eruption Death Mountain's Firemouth might send forth.

Earthen ramps, paved with stone and lined on either side with stairs for pedestrians, let traffic move from one level to another with ease. There were at least eleven different levels, with the baron's manor and the administrative buildings on the eighth and widest level.

Kakariko, in a way, was older and younger than Hyrule City itself. The terraces, ramps, and wells were probably old enough to have been built by the early settled Sheikah people in their heyday. But the buildings themselves were fairly new – not a one older than two hundred years. As if reading his mind, Kattala whispered that there had been a fire a hundred and fifty years ago, caused by an earthquake which had been born from the shivers of the sleeping bulk that was Death Mountain. Most of the city had been destroyed by the resulting fire, and then rebuilt.

Further down in the valley lay the farms that fed the city, winding north was the road that led to a cross roads – one going around the base of the Firemouth to Stonefall, the Mountain Province's capital, the other crawling up the mountain to Climbtown, the highest Hylian settlement in the country.

Mister Claral guided the cart up to the fifth level, until it rolled to a stop in front of a large, mannerly house in mottled grey stone, which was set halfway into the cliff of the terrace. A plump man, dressed in bright vermilion, waved happily from the front porch, and Kattala waved back.

"That would be my master." She said in a pleased tone. "Thank you Mister Claral, for the ride. You'll get the discounts as were promised to you." Mister Claral nodded,

"Thank'ee." Was all he said gruffly, and slid off the driver's bench to grab Link's things from the back of the cart. Kattala and Link clambered off the back, the girl once more supporting her charge as they walked over to her master.

"Splendid! Oh, splendid." The man pronounced, his voice pitched high and fluttery. "So this is the handsome young man you were telling me about, now, ay?" Claral took one wary look at the plump man, dumped the pack and bedroll at the shorter man's feet, grunted a hello, and hightailed it out of there.

In response to her master's question, Kattala shrugged under Link's arm.

"It weren't anything like that, Master Tangle." She said patiently, "This is Link Forrester. Link, this is my master, the Sorcerer Tangle Ferres."

"Pleased to meet you, Master Tangle. And thanks for taking me in." Link murmured.

"Heavens, lad, guests are always welcome here! Especially good looking men!" Tangle said with a good-natured leer. Kattala sighed, little shoulders slumping in embarassment. "Now let me just get your things and we'll settle you in. Your fine steed is already in our stable." He heaved the bundles up, and headed for the door. Link and Kattala stumbled after him. A servant closed the door behind them. The interior of the house was cool and shady, with dark wood floors and accents, diamond-paned windows of fine glass letting in rays of bright sunlight. There seemed to be very few servants, for such a large house.

Kattala handed Link off to a male servant, who led him to a sunny room on the second story. Link gratefully crawled into an armchair, and thanked the man.

"Mistress Katerin will be with you soon." The servant replied, and left. Link puzzled over who that might be. Perhaps the lady of the house. But Master Tangle did not seem like the kind of man who would have a wife, even for show. As it were, Mistress Katerin turned out to be Kattala.

"In this house, and in the city, you need to call me Katerin Ferres." She told him, and Link blinked.

"Why?" He wanted to know.

"I'm pretending to be the Master's daughter, see. The ownership of this house is rather tricky, and if Master Tangle doesn't have a blood heir, he loses the house to his great-aunt Melbina. Those servants have been serving the family for generations – it's their bread and butter as what comes from working here. We don't really need them, but Aunt Melbina would send them away to find new work just out of thrift. The hag." Kattala added spitefully. "And he's practically my father anyways, so I don't see nothing wrong with it."

"What's your real name, then?"

"Kattala Selten. But you keep that a secret," The girl warned, "Or I'll bend my mind to figuring out as why you've got one of the Royal Rings, a Gerudo scimitar, food for a long journey, and enough money and goods on you as could buy a house, easily."

"And tell me, what were you doing going through my things?" Link demanded, fingers digging into the arms of the upholstered chair, "Furthermore, how? Nobody but me can open that pack."

"That's what all the craftsmen say to their customers." Kattala said idly, waving her hand at the notion. "I'm no first-year apprentice. I've been making those sorts of bags for at least a year now. Breaking them open is like a locksmith picking a lock – it's just part of the skill set. But that's off the topic. I went through your pack because you were close enough to spit Death in the face for at least three days, and I needed to see who you were, whether you had family looking for you, and where they might be." Somewhere downstairs a melodious clock chimed eleven times. Kattala looked away. "I needs to get back to my training. Here-" She set two books down on Link's lap, and then fetched a small cane from the hall. "You reek of music magic. These should keep your interest. I expect you'll be hale and hearty in a day or so. You're welcome in the house for another week yet, so don't worry about wearing out your welcome. The bell pull in the corner will summon a servant, if you might need one." She turned to go.

"Wait -" Link said, and she stopped halfway out the door.

"Yes?" The strawberry blonde inclined her head.

"Why are you being so, well, welcoming? I'm a stranger, after all." Kattala grinned.

"I haven't been in Hyrule long, but where I'm from, we have something called hospitality. You might've heard of it." And then she was gone, padding quietly down the airy hallway.

Link sighed, and without anything better to do, turned to the books he'd been given.

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1. As the Zora River curls around the Plains much like the mountains do, there are two 'sides' of the river – inner, and outer.

2. Some might think Dampe is too old. Well, my great-uncle is in his late eighties, and he still goes fishing at four in the morning, hunts, and cuts down trees with a chainsaw. Also, Hylians become elderly around 100 years old. So there.

3. Like Dark and Keen, Kattala is a very important character. All three will have a major part to play in the sequel.

4. Here's a refresher for the calendar of Vanity: there are thirty-two hours in a day, five days in a week (Sunday, Moonsday, Starsday, Groundday, and Godsday). Godsday is the holy day of rest and worship. There are exactly four weeks in a month, making a month twenty days long. There are twenty months in a year, so a year is four hundred days long. The new year begins on the winter solstice.

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Everyone, you are so amazing! Please keep up the reviews - especially detailing specifics you like or don't.

Thank you.

Rin


	38. Moving Forward

I know it's been three weeks approximately since I last updated. My excuses are threefold - school is picking up, I am currently writing a full-length script for a play, and _quality, quality, quality. _ It has occurred to me that now that the story is in full swing, and the buildup has ended, the quality of the following chapters are key to maintaining a satisfactory story. I have therefore slowed production down from one chapter a week to one chapter every three weeks, at the longest. I anticipate producing more over Thanksgiving break, and greatly look forward to winter break. Chapters will also be getting longer, so they pack a good enough punch. You and I both would be delighted for my production to speed up, but I'm determined not to overreach anything. I want this sucker to be _solid_.

I have discovered the fantastic update chapter function, and have made good use of it - the first chapter is entirely replaced by one that emphasizes the greater size of my Hyrule.

Also, this chapter is not merely a monster chapter, but rather a leviathan one. 7,000 WTF.

Inspired by ocarina of time.

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* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Of Moving Forward**

On the third day of his time in the Ferres household, Kattala brought a steaming plate of dumplings to the window seat where Link was visually devouring a book on music magic that Master Tangle had lent him. The dumplings were not the ones he was used to – neither the steamed, thinly wrapped rice flour ones the Gerudo made, nor the boiled, thick wheat flour ones the Hylians served. These were crunchy, deep fried savory dumplings, filled with cooked mushrooms and thinly sliced beef. Link took one and savored it, chewing slowly.

When he had swallowed his mouthful, he looked over at Kattala.

"Kattala. What do you call these?" He wondered, and she smiled.

"We call them 'fried beef dumplings'." Link pouted.

"Fine. Be that way. But where are they from? Are they from out of the country, like you are?" Kattala nodded.

"That's right. The recipe is from my old homeland, Selen. Well, more specifically, from the city of Serral."

"What is it like, Outside?"

"Bigger. And not nearly as peaceful. Old-Region Selen was conquered by the Ansalian Empire, who controls most of the continent these days. There still are lots of rebellions in the Old-Regions as what Ansalia took over, especially in Selen." She brought her knee up, and rested her deformed cheek in her palm, elbow placed on her kneecap. "Tangle and Stephaen – that's his lover, they brought me here when I was nine, so I don't know much about outside beyond the basics and what they told me."

"Why did you leave your family? You mentioned they're still alive." Link pressed, and the redhead's lips thinned.

"It wasn't safe anymore." She said quietly, "The Ansal soldiers set fire to Serral. There was no time, and it wasn't safe there. My mum wanted to take us to Perinon, but the rebels were just as busy there too. So Tangle and Stephaen took me, and we fled South, through Old-Region Ansal, across the Lapiz River – the largest river in the world, and through the borders of Hyrule." She paused, then added. "Hyrule is called Azavaire, to us Outsiders."

"Azavaire." Link sat back on his heels. "That's a pretty name. I, uh. I'm not being too forward, am I?"

"I don't know." She said, equally puzzled. "I never had a friend my age before. It's all on account of this face, I suppose. Only old people will talk to me, most times. I don't know much about it, but I'll be your friend, even if you're going to leave soon." Link smiled gently.

"Kat. What are you talking about? You helped Dampe save my life, even though I'm a stranger. Of course we're friends." The girl waved it off.

"Good hospitality is part of one's honor, back in Selen. Turning someone away just isn't done, unless they've been marked as one of the shunned. There was nothing special about what I did. All right?"

"All right." Link acquiesced, and then they crunched up the fried dumplings in silence. Finally, Link broached the stalemate.

"Have you ever thought about getting your nose fixed by a healer?" He asked, and Kattala snorted.

"Believe me, I've tried. But healers, for all their skill, can't fix breaks as are this old."

"How old?"

"I've looked this way since I was five. Seven years is too long after all."

"Sorry, I suppose you're technically healed, the wound, I mean."

"You're correct. Would you like to leave the house?" Kattala ventured, blatantly changing the subject, "I bet you're tired of staying indoors."

"Don't you have practice to do?"

"Eh," She grunted, rather unladylike, "I can do that outside just as easily as in."

"What _are_ your practice tasks, anyway?" He wondered. He'd gone through the usual magic training under Rabiyu, then been tutored privately by Ganondorf in his music magic. But Kattala was a full-fledged apprentice to a sorcerer both powerful and worldly, and he had no idea what that entailed.

Kattala looked at him and bit her lip, hesitant. Link nudged her shoulder in encouragement, and she relented.

"Well, I suppose I can talk about it. Outside, the nine races are so interbred that an individual's abilities greatly vary from person to person. Everyone has some kind of magical ability, but most learn about it in their teens, and regulate it with an ear cuff, just like in Hyrule. And these abilities are small. One person in a thousand has a greater power, as is called academic magic, and they have to train more to control it. A lot more, matter o' fact. Every one of these is put through a diagnoser, as will categorize their ability. I'm an essence manipulator. Eventually, I should be able to take a sword and change its natural strength into unbreakability. I can already do bottomless bags like yours, and matches that don't burn out. I just mastered a new one – come see." She stood up, and Link blinked up at the disfigured girl.

"What?"

"I'll make you something useful for your quest."

"How do you know I'm on a quest?" Link said, caught off guard once more. She grinned.

"What thirteen year old boy has a Royal Ring, _two_ fine swords, healing potions and powders, rations, a cartload of maps, and all by his lonesome to boot? I bet it's a secret mission too." Link scowled at that.

"Now you're just being mean." He said ruefully, "I'll have you know, back at the Palace, nobody could read me. I was quite the man of mystery."

"I'm certain of that!" She reached down and pinched his cheek "Why, you're just the cheekiest rogue I've met, and I've seen a lot." He swatted her hand away and stood, trying to regain some vestige of his masculinity.

"Fine, fine! Let's go to your workshop, already!" Kattala just smiled, catlike, and trotted down the hall to the stairs, leading him to a small, dusty workroom filled with shelves, cabinets, and a narrow workbench. She hopped up onto a tall stool, and Link found a stool for himself.

Out of various cabinets and drawers she pulled out a pliers, a wire cutter, a small ceramic bowl, nine lengths of dark leather cord, a large metal pin, three vials of some kind of oil, and some gold wire.

"Firstly, in making bracelets of binding, you oil the leather." She dribbled two oils into the bowl, swirling them together. Kattala coated her hands in the mix and worked the oil into the leather thongs. "Using oils of lavender and sleepwort to induce sleep, see. Then you braid the nine into three separate braids, keeping the direction of one braid reversed, for strength and binding." She pinned three cords together and quickly braided them together, unpinned the braid, set it aside, and did likewise for the other six strands. "You rub the oil into them again, then weave the three braids into one." She did so. "Tie it off – and make a clasp out of the wire. Rag, please." Link found one, and handed it to Kattala, who wiped her hands off. Taking up the pliers, she quickly shaped a hook and loop out of two lengths of wire, then fastened them to each end of the wide triple-braid. "Put the magic in-" Her brow furrowed with concentration as she held the leather piece, and Link dimly registered a faint, shining hum around them. It wavered faintly, like the fragment of a melody he couldn't quite place.

Softly, Kattala whispered,

"Everything comes from you. Everything goes to you too…" She repeated herself twice. And then the apprentice mage let go – the soft murmur of music disappeared immediately. She dripped a single drop of oil from the smallest vial onto the creation, smeared it around on the leather in a circular motion with her finger, then wiped the bracelet with the rag. "And, finally, bind the working to its completion. Here." She handed the finished piece to Link. "If you fasten this around someone's wrist once the oil dries, it will lock on them and force them to sleep for two days. It's only good for one use, I fear."

Link looked down at it, turning the bracelet over in his hands.

"Why give this to me?" He wondered aloud.

"I'm buying your friendship, is what." Kattala said frankly, meeting blue eyes squarely with her soft green ones.

"What?" Link said in alarm, and she shrank in on herself slightly at his tone.

"Isn't that what friends do? Give each other gifts as could help them?" She asked meekly, "I heard that girls make friendship bracelets, so I thought I'd try that, only I can do works with magic, so wouldn't a charmed bracelet be better?" Link's mouth worked silently for a second, then closed shut as he decided what to say to that.

"It was very thoughtful." He said gently, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Kattala replied, mollified. "I need to take a rest, I think."

"Didn't you want to go outside?"

"Maybe later." She responded, "Making works that fast is quite the drain."

"Oh, all right, then." Link sighed. The strawberry blonde girl nodded at him, tidied up her workspace quickly, and shuffled away in the direction of her room.

Link carefully closed the workshop's door behind him, and returned to his room and the padded window seat, confused by what had just happened, but eager to pick up where he'd left off in his text.

* * *

Dinner that night was interesting. Kattala was tired and quiet, Master Tangle was bubbly and courteous, and Stephaen, Tangle's lover was good-humored but silent. Link himself remained attentive but polite, not wanting to encourage the vague flirtation the sorcerer occasionally threw his way.

At first the talk had been of the current demand for enchanted trinkets, and the latest news over the leylines, but at some point, conversation turned to the world outside Hyrule.

"Ultimately, I think Selen is the most unique country of all of Vanity, although of course it is no longer a country but what outsiders refer to as Old-Regions. Selen, Wehana, the Frostlands, and Idre have all been taken over by the Ansalian Empire for many decades, leaving only distant Eastland left. And I don't say I prefer Selen because I settled there for many years, nor that I found my dear Katerin and Stephaen there. The night there is never dark, because of the clouds that form right after sunfall. At night they radiate the light they gather during the day. You can only really see the stars right at dawn, but the two moons' light comes through just fine. Still, it's good to be back in the old home country, away from the influence of that Mad God they have."

"Mad God?" Link wondered, intrigued. "Who is he? I thought the Goddesses created the world and there were no deities beyond heresy."

"Oh, he's real," Stephaen spoke up in a dark tone, "He says he created Vanity, and all on it. 'Course, he goes around destroying the temples of any other religion as might form if it weren't for him. Most Gods, real or not, even your Goddesses, have the sense to live mostly apart from us mortals. But no – the ol' Mad God likes to walk the world in mortal garb, always testing the faith of us mortals. And if he finds you lacking, well!" Stephaen made a quick, broad gesture "Bam! Say farewell to your home, your family, your town, and only then, your life. But Azavaire's… no, _Hyrule's _barriers seem to keep him out right well."

All four diners shuddered at the thought, even Link. The topic was quickly changed – as if even speaking of the Mad God might bring him down upon them - and those eating soon spoke of the excellent food they were consuming. Served that night was a preparation of mountain quail and a strange, grain-like noodle called _couscous_ that apparently came from Selen. Tangle managed to get Link talking about Palace politics – for the man was too canny not to notice the Royal Ring Link wore, and clever enough to deduce Link was on a mission – and encouraged Link by the means of revealing something of Selenid politics for every vague tidbit the Hylian boy offered. It was oddly freeing to talk openly with three people who took supposedly heroic and secret missions for granted.

A strange tea was passed around after dinner - made of unfermented tea leaves. The result was a delicate tea with floral notes – what Kattala and Stephaen called 'green tea.' As far as Link knew, the only place where tea could be grown was in the southernmost reaches of the Curled Backbone Mountains in Rainfall Province. All the tea that came out of the Province was what Kattala called 'black tea', and had been properly oxidized.

"Most of the Ansalian Empire gets its tea from Selen." Kattala said, swinging her feet under the table and accidentally kicking Link squarely in the shins, "It rains enough in the mountains, especially our Mountains of Night."

"Mountains of Night? That sounds ominous." Link ventured.

"Remember now, that 'the sun never sets in Selen'." Tangle reminded the boy, "But the Mountains of Night are high enough to breech the _light clouds_ and experience true night. Those very mountains are on the left end of the continent-long range called the Pillars of the Sky. Tallest mountains in the world, they are."

"The Mountains of Night are very auspicious, is what he means." Kattala said querulously, sharply tapping her collarbone with her thumb in a gesture Link assumed came from Selen as well.

"That is correct." Tangle said mildly.

By the end of the night, Link knew quite a bit about the outside world. But what held his interest the most was Selen, which seemed to be a country that mixed the heat of Hyrule's South with the rain of the Rainfall province, and the steep mountains of the North.

Link climbed easily into bed that night, feeling fully restored, with no more shakes or weakness from his encounter with the cold and the ghost's curse.

* * *

Kattala found Link in the stables the next day, while he was busy tending to Deste. The Ferres servants had taken very good care of the dapple grey gelding while the boy was ill, but Link had missed his daily interaction with his steed. He'd already carefully curried and brushed the grey's coat, and given Deste some bran mash as a treat.

Kattala peeked into the stall while Link was cleaning out Deste's feet with a hoof pick, the horse's leg carefully balanced on his rider's bent knee.

"Hallo, Link." She said, and Link looked up briefly at her, but kept a firm grip on the hoof in his lap.

"Morning, Kat. Sleep well?" He inquired, continuing to clean out the muck from the flat of his steed's hooves, carefully avoiding the sensitive 'frog' at the back of the hoof.

"I did, thank you." Kattala replied. "Your color's up. How do you feel towards getting out of the house today?"

"I think that would be great." Link switched hooves, going from the back right to front right. Deste patiently held still, knowing it would be over soon and his feet would feel better for it when it was done. "I'm almost done, and then we can go."

"All right, then."

Link flicked his hoof pick to remove the mixture of dung, straw, and mud clinging to it. "Do you like to ride?" He wondered absently, and Kattala snorted.

"I don't like horses much."

"Why?"

"Got stepped on when I was little, long ago. Broke two of my toes. They're still sort of crooked."

"That's awful… But you seem okay, in the stables."

"I don't like horses, as I said. I'm not really _scared_ of them." She said peevishly.

Link shrugged, and set Deste's hoof down, standing and giving the dapple a firm pat on the finely muscled shoulder.

"Suit yourself, I guess. I'm ready to go." He brushed bits of straw off his pants and boots. "Did I get it all?"

Kattala shook her head.

"You have some in your hair."

"Oh." He searched through his hair for the offending straws, found them, and pulled them out. "Better?"

"Much." She reached up and pulled down a wicker basket from one of the lower stall partitions, slinging it over her arm. "Shall we go, sir?" Link bowed formally.

"As the Lady Katerin wishes." He said, smiling. She grinned back and thumbed her shattered twist of a nose.

"Why, yes, I do." Kattala said airily, and skipped out of the stable in imitation of a flounce. She stopped before she left the carriage yard, and turned to Link. "I've already told Master Tangle that we'll be out for a bit, so no worries."

Link nodded, and followed his new friend off the property, and into the streets of Kakariko.

They made their way down four levels to the bottom terrace, weaving through the Moonsday traffic to the city road that led to the valley rim.

On the second terrace, they were stopped by a man in rags, who seemed rather agitated.

"Flies! You're all flies!" He gibbered, gathering a crowd as he gesticulated wildly, "Flies, all of you, fit to catch. To drain. The King will send a rain down that will turn you all to spiders, to turn on your neighbors and eat them up. One by one! He did this to my family, and now we must eat the filth of Vanity, until the curse has passed. Listen, little flies, before the King sucks your life away to fight the South. The South has shed its skin – it grows greater day by day, and soon its wings will dry and it will fly far, far away to a land that does not eat its young! Cursed spiders we are! We weave our subtle webs, we catch our share, but woe to those who fall prey to their own traps, to be stuck fast, to wither inside our bones until naught but shell is left! The King! He has grown fat on you little flies, but a large spider only attracts more attention to the birds, the creeping creatures and the God with hard-soled feet!"

There was a shout from the back of the crowd, as a trio of soldiers started pushing through. Kattala grabbed Link's sleeve and dragged him away from the sad sight of the raving man being taken away in chains.

"There are more and more prophets as are speaking doom in public, these days." She said just quietly enough that only Link could hear her.

"Obviously he's insane, the poor heretic." Link replied in concern. Kattala eyed him sidelong with those green eyes.

"Oh, he's insane all right," She said solemnly, "But a heretic, nor a false prophet, he's not. He mentioned a God, not Goddess or even a trio of them. He's a prophet of the Mad God, more like. Which makes me wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Link prompted, and Kattala frowned thoughtfully.

"Whether the Mad God has come to Azavaire, or if not, when he will."

Link shivered at the very idea, even if he wasn't completely sure there really was a Mad God at all.

The pair went down to the lowest level of Kakariko, crossed the gateway that marked the city limits, and trotted down the rough road into the woods. They took the left fork, and Kattala turned to Link.

"You feeling up to a race?" She asked cheekily, and the Gerudo boy smirked.

"How far?"

"To the archway into the graveyard. About a mile or so."

"Easy." He proclaimed, and she smiled at him.

"You can be the one as will call the start." She decided, and knotted her skirt up high enough that Link could see she wore leggings underneath. "Right, I'm ready."

"All right, then. Ready, steady, GO!" They took off down the muddy road, avoiding mud puddles caused by the melted snow, legs churning. The sheath of the sword Fran had given him banged against his thigh as he ran.

Link was doing well – he had always been the fastest amongst his peers – but then Kattala sped up further and overtook him, little feet nimble. Soon she was pulling away, basket and all. Together, they pelted down the rocky road, Link trying futilely to catch up.

Kattala was eight yards ahead when she passed through the archway that marked the entrance to the graveyard. When Link finished, they doubled over, gasping for breath. Kattala took deep breaths through her mouth, and let air out through her splintered nose, which made an odd, nasal whistling as she exhaled. When he got his breath back, Link began to laugh.

"Well run!" He breathed, "Where did you learn to run like _that_?" Kattala smiled, still gasping, and held up a hand to take a moment to slow her breathing.

"Mister Dampe is even faster, and he's in his hundreds." She finally replied. "But he's slowing down now – age is catching up, as will happen to people, no matter how fast he might be. He taught me."

"I see." Well, at least she'd been taught that kind of speed, Link thought ruefully, which lessened the blow to his ego. Kattala shrugged fluidly, slinging the basket back onto her arm, and trudged up the hill to the first few lines of graves and the gravekeeper's home. Dampe's shack was tucked into a bend in the rock ridge that fenced the western side of the graveyard. Kattala rapped sharply on the door with her free hand, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited.

The old man shuffled to the door, and opened it. It was hard to believe this old man was faster than speedy little Kattala, but his chest was broad and barrel-shaped, his back slightly humped, his limbs thick but sinewy. He was as bald and pale as white marble, and when the elderly man smiled at the foreign girl, Link could see he still had most of his teeth.

"I've brought you some lunch today, Dampe. Soup, bread, and fried sausage for all of us."

"Thank'ee much, sweet child. I'll take your basket and keep the food warm in the stove. As it's Moonsday, do you want to take the thurible for today, and let an old man rest his weary bones?"

"I'll surely do it." She agreed, and handed the basket over. Dampe took it and opened his door wider to let the two adolescents in. The inside of the shack was as rough and homely as Link remembered from two weeks ago. Kattala immediately went for a cupboard and pulled out a closed dish attached to a bit of chain. She pulled out charcoal, a small jar, a knife, and a thick red match. While she got those things out, Dampe took a ceramic jar, a wrapped bundle, and a small box out of the basket and into the stove.

Kattala set the charcoal into the opened dish, fussed with it until it was lit, then inserted cones of incense into the lit coals. She closed the covering of the dish, and held the thurible firmly by the chain, fragrant smoke wafting out through small openings in the vessel's cover.

"Come on, let's finish this." The disfigured strawberry blonde said, gesturing for Link to follow her. "I reckon as you could use some fresh air, and you got to apologize to the ghost you offended, or she might kick up a fuss and bother me and Dampe later." She said decisively, and Link stared. Kattala had a very strange outlook on life, he decided eventually, then caught himself staring at her twisted nose and sunken cheek, and ripped his eyes away before she could notice. After two weeks of exposure, the sight had reduced itself from nausea-inducing to being merely shocking.

"All right, let's go." He agreed, and gallantly held the door for her.

They spent the next two hours walking the paths that followed each line of graves, him following her as she swung the thurible in a circular pattern. Twenty minutes into the first hour he came up with an idea.

"This incense procession – it's to please the dead, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's correct."

"Would a little music please them as well?"

"I suppose. Well, actually, they'd surely love a break from routine. So long as it's respectful, I'd bet they would. It's a thoughtful, clever idea, I think."

"Thank you." Link said humbly, "I just like playing music, that's all." She simply smiled. He pulled out his second favorite ocarina from his pocket – he wasn't doing magic after all, and the Ocarina of Time was safe around his neck – it wouldn't do to show off with a sacred instrument.

The ocarina he was using at the moment was a long oval, made of terra cotta and decorated with striking painted markings in black and white. He hesitated for a moment, then struck up a solemn tune.

The graveyard was massive – easily the largest one for commoners in all of Hyrule. There were a few family mausoleums here and there, but the monuments were mostly the small, engraved conical pillars that served as grave markers.

Finally, they reached the south-westernmost edge of the cemetery, and the grave where Link had been found by Dampe the Gravekeeper. These graves were markedly older, and the carved names in the markers were mostly indiscernible. Kattala finished swinging the thurible and set it down, returning to the grave Link had slept upon.

"What am I supposed to do?" Link asked Kattala.

"Apologize to her. Formally, with a blood sacrifice, in fact. Her name is Galena Mioksis." She replied, then pulled a small knife from under her dress, presumably from a belt or a thigh holster, and smoothed her dress back down to properly cover her ankles once more.

"Why are you carrying a knife?" Link wanted to know, "I thought Hylian girls weren't allowed to." Kattala smirked slightly.

"I'm not Hylian, Link. Nor elvish, even. Some unholy mix is what I am, of how many races, I don't know. Certainly more than most of those that walk Vanity. And besides, if I'm a mage, I have need to draw blood - often. It makes no sense to use that great sticker of yours for a small cut" The short girl handed him the blade and a clean rag from her pocket. "A tablespoon or so should do. And be sincere. The dead like that best."

Link sighed at that, but she was right – he'd brought his sword along because of the graveyard's proximity to the wild valley, but also in case any of the dead decided to become undead while he was there. He'd had his run ins with the living dead, and seen what they could do. Magic was all well and good – when he was at full strength – but who knew whether his reserves were replenished completely?

He dutifully stood next to the grave where he'd been found, and rolled up his right sleeve, exposing the meaty part of his forearm. He made a long, shallow cut across it – his hands were too important to mar – letting blood drip slowly onto the grave, squeezing the slight cut with his free hand to milk out more blood.

"Mistress Galena Mioksis." He began solemnly, "Please forgive my trespass on your resting place. I regret my actions, and repent now with a more learned heart." He bowed deeply to the grave marker, his arm stinging and dripping. He thought he heard a slow sigh in response, the high shiver of distant bells, then heard nothing more than the spring wind rustling the trees. He stepped backwards away from the grave, keeping his back to Kattala and pressing the rag to the cut, until he stood at his friend's side.

"Very good." She proclaimed softly, taking her knife back, cleaning it, and sheathing it once more. She curtseyed to the grave, and followed Link as he walked away, carrying the now-cold thurible in her arms.

It was a good half-hour's walk back to Dampe's shack, and they were stopped once on the way.

Past a partially moldered grave pillar, a soft sneer cut through the air, chilling the two living children as they passed. Soft breathing pressed into laughter, then rose higher into a cackle of triumph. A scrap of brown linen fell from a nearby tree, blown on the wind and curled in upon itself. A light rose from the earth of the grave, spilling into the shroud, and in the shadow of the curled shroud two yellow eyes opened, gazing raptly at Link and Kattala. A lantern materialized in ghostly hands that protruded from the shroud.

Link cursed, and drew his blade.

"Kat, stay back. Poes are dangerous." He hissed.

Kattala snorted in annoyance.

"Poes is what you _Hylians_ call them? They're not Poes – but Shroud Demons. The weakest form of the undead. He's just smelt living blood given willingly. Should have wrapped your cut better, is all." She reached out and squeezed Link's shoulder in warning. "Put away your sword and bow to the poor confused fellow - like this." She stretched her arms akimbo, palms out, and folded herself into a bow, one leg crossing behind the other. "Poor good soul," She addressed the ghoul, "Now is the time for growing, and waking, but only for the living, dearheart. Go back to sleep, the flowers on your grave will bloom soon enough. And I'll come by with some incense to soothe you." She kicked Link's leg and hissed, "_Bow_, drat you!" He obeyed, and the Poe contemplated the pair, nodded as if to itself, and the light and shadow that formed it drained into the dirt of the grave, which thumped as if a heart beat there, then went still. The shroud fluttered away on the wind, but Kattala caught it before it could go far.

"Poor confused man." Kattala said, glaring at Link, "You almost made him angry."

"_Angry?_" Link snapped back, glaring just as hotly, "Excuse me if I treat undead monsters like the danger they are!"

"A knife is a _danger_ as much as a ghost is, to those who don't understand how not to get cut." Kattala said stubbornly. _The fool_, Link thought.

"You could have gotten hurt." He insisted. She crossed her arms petulantly.

"I could've hurt myself in just as many other ways, as well. Let's leave the Poe, or whatever you may call him, to his rest. It's lunchtime – we've missed Second Worship if I'm judging the sun's position rightly." She boldly marched away, and Link followed reluctantly behind her, his awakened temper cooling as they walked.

Dampe was waiting for them at the shack, a thin blanket spread out beneath a massive stone monument at the entrance to the graveyard. The children plunked themselves down on the fabric.

"Were you successful?"

"He was." Kattala said, "She was appeased. But Morgon Morrain is manifesting already, as a Shroud Demon. I got him calmed, but that won't last long, I reckon."

Dampe nodded.

"Good to know, child. Thank you for the warnin'. Come children – lunch is ready." He gestured to the bowls and plates set out. Hungry from the long walk and excitement with the Poe, the two adolescents tucked in. Kattala's basket had contained cheese flatbread, a thick tomato and herb soup to dip the slices of bread in, as well as fried venison sausage rolled in breadcrumbs. To go with the meal was three little jugs – two of milk for Link and Kattala, and a sharp cider for Dampe. The food was simple but hearty, and soon there was nothing left but crumbs.

Stomachs comfortably full, they stretched out in the unusually warm spring sunlight glancing off the highly reflective monument behind them. It was made of some black-flecked grey stone polished to a high shine.

Carved into the surface were the words:

_In memory of those honorable Sheikah who serve the will of the descendants of Harkinian the Great, and the Lady Ganhala the Storm-Hearted. _

_Long may their names be spoken, may the work of their hands last for ages, may those they protect multiply and conquer the land, may they feast and recall great tales in the War Lodge of Farore the Ever-Growing for all eternity._

"Dampe?" Link wondered aloud, "Why is there a monument to the Sheikah here? I thought only Hylians lived in the mountains."

"Every native in Kakariko has some bit of Sheikah blood runnin' through their veins, lad." The wizened man said, "In the country's founding days, none of the Hylians lived around, nor near Death Mountain, because of the great lava flows it had back then when it was awake. But the land was worth the trouble – at least twenty different leylines join at the mountain, meaning there is more magic here nor any other of mebbe a dozen around Hyrule. When the Lady Ganhala learned of it, she told ol' Harkinian that she wanted a village on the mountain, to tap that magic, and he followed through with it. Back then he was ruling mostly Sheikah, so a Sheikah city Kakariko was. The Lady Impa is Ganhala's descendant through the Storm-Heart's sister, and she's due to rule the blood-seat when her mother passes, but she found duty greater than ruling –she guards the Crown Princess in the Capitol."

"Why do the Sheikah serve the Royal Family, anyway? All they've ever done is take over the Sheikah's land, more and more over the years." Link prodded, and Dampe sighed, passing a knobby hand over his wrinkled face.

"There are two kinds of Sheikah, young Link. Those who serve, and those who walk."

"What?"

"The ones who serve blend in with the Hylians, serving the descendants of the greatest war leader in all the ages. Remember that before he ruled Hyrule, he joined a Sheikah tribe first – the Fire Birds. That's why the Royal crest has a phoenix on it, anyhow. Hyrule is just as much a Sheikah country as it is Hylian – why, the first Queen was the strongest, most iron-willed Sheikah woman in legend. But those who walk – they still follow the old traditions and live off the land, never settling for more'n a year at once. They're the losers of the game of conquest – they have no land of their own. We call them the Shadow Wanderers."

"Even the Wanderers perform a service for Hyrule, like as not, though." Kattala cut in, grey-green eyes bright. "They run the caravans that go between cities, trading and protecting groups of travelers. They're the performers as who wander from site to site, the merchants who come to the great fairs at harvest time, the messengers taking post as can't be sent through leylines."

"Huh. I suppose that makes sense." Link replied slowly, and Kattala and Dampe nodded, satisfied with their account of the Sheikah.

Link spent the rest of the half-hour thinking and enjoying the warmth of the sun, before it was time for Dampe to get back to his duties, and for Link and Kattala to return to the Ferres manor.

On the second level of Kakariko the two discovered the 'Spider Prophet' – as they'd termed him – had been taken away, his ratty bag of things left discarded where he'd stood. Asking a nearby stall owner what had happened to the man revealed the soldiers had taken the man away on charges of heresy and treason.

As Link and Kattala climbed three more flights of stairs on the massive ramps to the fifth terrace, Kattala explained that the Ferres family made most of their money by running a leyline message station that sat on a junction of three major leylines in the area. That was why Master Tangle had so much trouble with the ownership of the house – the location was highly advantageous.

The two adolescents went to a sitting room on the first level of the three-story house, and struck up a game of cards, trading tidbits of various legends from Hyrule and Selen, until dinner time.

* * *

As much fun as it was to stay with Kattala in the Ferres household, all things had to come to an end. By the twelfth day of his stay, Link was completely packed to go, his energy and health long-returned, daily races with Kattala having brought him back into shape. Perhaps it was just Link's imagination, but Deste seemed eager to leave. Link comforted himself with the thought that there was no reason not to visit after he'd earned the Goron's trust and gotten the blood offering. Why, he could even send coded messages to both Ganondorf and Zelda via their proxies.

It was sunny and warm on the morning Link chose to set out from Kakariko. Kattala was there with Master Tangle and Stephaen, the girl wearing the jade dragon he'd regifted her with for her hospitality and friendship. The four of them were on the seventh level of the city, where the road to Death Mountain started.

"A safe journey to you, Link." Kattala said brightly, "And a successful mission – whatever it is." Link liked the way she looked at him – affectionate, friendly, and without the slightest bit of romantical intent.

"Thank you, Kat. Master Tangle, Mister Stephaen," Link said to the two men with a nod, "Thank you for letting me stay with you."

"Any time, my dear boy," Tangle said happily, "Feel free to visit, and good luck to you until then."

Stephaen nodded sharply.

"Agreed." He said brusquely.

"Well, I guess I'm off." Link mounted up, waving as Deste mouthed the bit in his mouth. His three new friends waved cheerfully as the horse and rider disappeared down the road to Death Mountain.

After a few minutes, Link straightened in the saddle to face forward, looking up at the bulk of the volcanic Death Mountain.

"On the road again, just you and me, hmm Deste?" He said to his steed, and urged the gelding faster with a slight nudge of his heels.

And they were off in the wilderness once more.

* * *

1. A thurible is a device used for religious purposes to ritually spread the smoke of incense in a holy place. It is a type of _censer_, which is a vessel in which incense is burned. A thurible consists of a bowl to hold the charcoal and incense, a cover that fastens on which usually has holes in it to let the smoke out, and a chain by which to swing it around. In Christian practices, it is swung in the shape of a cross.

2. Like Ferrick Keen and Dark, we will see more of Kattala later on.

3. In the next chapter, Gorons!

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Reviews are delightful.


	39. Heights

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Hope you are all having a good holiday. I am so glad my play is complete – perhaps I shall put it up on Fictionpress if anyone is interested – it's called TornadoCon, and is about my experience at an anime convention earlier this summer. Chapter Thirty-Nine was an absolute beast – 8,000 words – I kid you not. This chapter, though, was very fun to write, because of my take on Gorons. Please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Of Heights

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**

If going around Cragshead Mountain had been difficult, climbing Death Mountain was even worse. Deste proved to be as nimble as a desert rock-creeper, or, more locally, nimble as an ibex. Link was grateful for his horse's pluck and stamina – the higher they went, the thinner the air grew, and it was sapping his strength. Kattala's Master Tangle had mentioned that would happen, but Link still hadn't been prepared for it.

At last he reached Climbtown, the highest Hylian settlement on Death Mountain. It was a desolate little town, perched in a steep hanging valley. There were perhaps thirty different buildings, only one tiny tavern that also served as an inn, built on either side of the mountain stream that had carved the valley and tumbled over the edge of the cliff as a shimmering ribbon of a waterfall. Bridges which crossed over the deep gulch connected the two sides of town. The edges of the town had overtaken the valley's free space and so the residents had begun to carve homes out of the barren mountain face that fenced the three sides of the valley.

Now, with night falling, yellow light poured out of every window – homes likely lit by light stones and heated by magic fires fueled with chunks of firestone, as what little wood was available up here was too valuable to burn. The wind lazily blew stone-smoke from the town's chimneys right into Link's face, bringing with it the smells of cold water, old stone, and cooking suppers. Deste snorted and shook himself under his master's seat, apparently impatient to be fed and watered. Link smiled, patting the gelding's neck, and urged his steed into walking faster than an amble with a firm nudge of his heels.

The rocky, narrow mountain path turned into the packed earth street that ran through the center of the left side of Climbtown. Very few people were out and about at this time, but a quick question from a woman washing clothes directed him across one of the bridges to the right side of town, where the Mountain Tavern stood. A wooden sign hung over the entrance, the painted, mountain faded and slightly peeling, dark squiggles rising from the volcano mouth apparently depicting smoke. A hastily painted sign asked customers with horses to go around to the side, so Link did. The tavern's stable was so small it was more like a very large lean-to, but it would do. The single stablehand showed Link to the only empty stall, and went to fetch water and feed while Link dismounted and began to care for his horse. As the walk through town had cooled his horse suitably, he went straight to stall care. He replaced the bridle and reins for a loose halter, removed the saddle bags, then unbuckled the saddle, slid it and the saddle blanket off and moved the tack over to a convenient shelf across the stable. Deste whuffled a pleased grunt when he saw his master return, and lipped the boy's hands in search of food or treats. Link patted his equine friend, then began to groom his horse with a curry brush, a bristle brush, and a rag. He returned to the saddlebags to pull out a horse blanket and hoof pick, and began to work on getting the mud and stones out of his steed's broad hooves. Once Deste was completely taken care of, Link got out of the way of the stablehand, who was carrying an armful of hay. Deste nickered in delight, and began to eat as soon as the bundle of hay and alfalfa was set before him.

"Be sure and chew, Deste." Link said absently to his horse, "Don't bolt it." He turned to the stablehand. "Just hay for now, please. Oats when he's rested." Link instructed. Between growing up with Reya, training with Rabiyu, and his days spent at Long Lon Ranch, he was quite well educated on horse matters.

"We don't have any concentrates here, mister." The stablehand said, "Even for Lon horses. Just hay. Folks round here eat all the oats and barley, sides."

Link sighed, then shrugged.

"I guess it's as good as it'll get. Thank you."

"How long you staying?" The man inquired with a tilt of his head.

"I'll be continuing up the mountain within four days or so. I heard there's no horse trails further up."

"That's right. He's staying here while you go up?"

"That's right. It could take more than a month to return."

"You one of those religious types, going up to speak with the Mountain Man?"

"The holy man?" Link asked, thinking quickly.

"Riiiight. That one."

How could he convince this man that he was after this supposed Mountain Man, and still find out more information on this mysterious figure? It was a good ruse to go up the mountain, rather than letting everyone in town know Link was after the Gorons?

"Where is the Mountain Man, please?" He asked, "All I know is my father sent me up there to be reborn, but I don't know how to get there, exactly."

The stableman gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"Halfway between here and Goron City."

"And… how do I get to the Goron City?"

"I dunno. There's a Goron staying at the inn. Ask that one."

"Thank you." Link smiled, feeling better now that he had a suitable alibi.

"Eh." The stablehand shrugged again, and Link sighed, put away his equipment, then headed into the main part of the tavern. It was dimly lit, with only five small tables in a single cramped room. A larger, long table served as a bar, covered mostly with unmarked bottles of moonshine. There were only about thirteen patrons in the room, huddled around tables near the massive, lit hearth, where a large pot hung on a hook. Link sidled over to where the tavern keeper sat behind the long table.

"I, uh. I'd like a room for two days, and a stable stall for my horse, on a semi-permanent basis." Link said tentatively.

The stocky, broad-shouldered tavern keeper blinked.

"All right. What's a young lad like yourself doing on your own?" He asked falteringly.

"I've come to see the Mountain Man." Link said earnestly. There was a chorus of loud sniggers from several of the patrons. Link ignored them, hand going for his pocket defensively, then stopped himself. "Well, I am." He said with false indignation.

"He looking for apprentices?" The tavern keeper wondered absently, hands like shovels instinctively mixing some brown grain alcohol with a purple powder.

"Probably something more like a disciple." Link said glumly. The man smiled.

"Same difference." He said, tugging at his dark mustache. "Well, we only have two rooms for lodgings here, and both are occupied at the moment. I reckon you could share, though. That is, if you don't mind sharing with a Goron." The tavern keeper turned to one of the patrons. "Trickan, your drink is ready." He called out, and a crooked-backed man rose from his seat.

"Do they even use beds?" Link queried, and the man shook his head, handing Mister Trickan his purple drink, with a nod and an exchange of coins.

"They do not, lad. The one we've got is just curled up on the floor like a boulder. It isn't feeling too well, summat on account of lack of fire or whatever it says. We've been nursing it with hot coals and lit alcohol, but it isn't long for this world if things keep up."

"I'd be fine with sharing a room." Link offered, and the tavern keeper smiled in relief. "In fact, I'll help with the Goron's care if you take a little off my stabling fee."

"Done and done." The tall tavern keeper said, pleased with the prospect. "Let me show you to your room." Link bent to pick up his pack, slinging it over one shoulder, and followed the man through a narrow hallway to an equally narrow room. It was about six paces long and three paces wide, with just enough room for a bed, a nightstand, and the curled up body of the Goron which took up the rest of the room's space. A dirty window let in light from the moons and the stone-light from the neighboring houses of the tavern. The room itself was grimy with age, and drafty.

"That is Doro, from the Goron city." The tavern keeper said, "It wakes from time to time, making groaning noises like the creak of the earth during an earthquake. It can barely make itself understood, it's so ill. It is late. The privy is out back – go left down the hall, two doors down, the one with the heavy bar. I will wake you tomorrow to feed it coal and suchlike, and also to work out your stabling fee. My name is Harver Slenson. Good night, young sir."

"Good night, Master Slenson." The man nodded, and closed the door behind him.

Link set his pack down at the base of the nightstand, and stepped over to the huddled form of the Goron. He put an open palm gingerly on the rocky back. Doro barely registered it. The fellow's tough hide was a strange fluctuation of chill and faint warmth. He pulled his hand away and moved to change into night clothes, tired both from the long climb into town, and from the thin air. He hoped the air didn't get much thinner – it was taking its toll on him.

Link changed into nightclothes, turned up the light stone, and pulled out a book on Goron legends. Perhaps it would shed some light on how to deal with the rocky creatures, their etiquette, and how to heal them. After all, if he could heal Doro, he wouldn't even need to get to the Goron city…

It was an encouraging thought.

* * *

Link wrinkled his nose at the stink of the tannery that shared the same building as the smithery. His stomach gurgled restlessly, reminding him yet again that he'd had nothing more than some porridge for breakfast, and that it was almost suppertime. He was patiently waiting for the blacksmith to heat a combination of iron and volcanic rock together until the material melted.

Link had at first been puzzled by his monograph of Goron legends' claim that Gorons ate the 'fire that comes from mountains' until he realized that fire did not come out of volcanoes, but rather, lava. Zelda had been the one to turn his interest on geology, and the books he had read on the subject had taught him quite a bit about the volcanoes that littered the mountains which dominated the North's outside borders.

So. Gorons ate freshly molten lava.

Earlier that morning, Master Slenson had awoken the Gerudo boy to assist him in feeding Doro. The tavern keeper brought with him a censer of hot coals, and together the two Hylians had coaxed Doro awake and gotten the fellow to accept the cherry-red coals one by one. Patiently, Link had gotten Doro to speak a little with him before letting the rocky being sleep again.

Doro spoke scatteredly of Death Mountain going to sleep when it was not due to, and of the hungry times that had thus fallen upon the Goron people. Neither Link nor any of the townspeople knew what Doro was talking of, until Link tried to view the situation as a puzzle. Thinking thusly had led him to the realization that might save Doro. The Goron wasn't ill – he was starving! Coals were an inadequate source of food – they were fire-lit, yes, but were neither molten nor comprised of igneous rock. But where to get lava? Surely the local blacksmith frequently melted iron to pour into molds. Iron and stone ought to have similar melting temperatures…

With this new information, he'd woken Doro again, who mumbled that his assumptions about what Gorons ate were correct. Elated, Link spoke with Master Slenson, who gave him directions to the local smithy.

Now, the blacksmith pulled the pottery crucible off the magic flames in the forge, and set it aside a moment to wipe his brow.

"That's that melted, lad." He said to Link, "Just lemme…" He reached out a hand that glowed orange with smith-magic, and touched the vessel with a muttered word. Immediately the seething liquid froze still. It was time-sealed, but not cooled off in the slightest. The smith looked up from the crucible. "Where did you say that Goron fellow was? You're a strong lad, but you aren't carrying this very far on my watch. Melted or not, iron is iron and stone is stone. And that's both of them _heavy_."

"To the back room of the tavern. Master Slenson is waiting for us there, Smithmaster Bronson."

"And you think that Goron fellow will be better for it?" The smith asked skeptically. Link nodded.

"I do."

"Well then! Let's get this slag into the belly of the beast." Smithmaster Bronson easily lifted the time-sealed crucible into a thick metal pot with heavy, curved handles, then snapped a lid on the pot. His heavily muscled arms lifted the vessel easily, and together Link and the smith strode across the narrow road to the back of the tavern. At their approach, Tavern keeper Master Slenson opened the back door and got out of the smith's way.

"Doro is awake, young Mister Forrester." He informed Link, "I sure hope you're right about this."

"We'll see." Link said quietly, and sure enough, Doro was sitting upright against the wall, looking dopey but awake. "Hallo, Doro. " He said gently, "We've brought some molten iron and rock for you. It's not exactly lava, but it should do, right?"

Doro outstretched a hand as the Smithmaster snapped the lid off and pulled out the crucible.

"**Give it here, Link Forrester.**" Doro said in a voice like the groan of the earth during rockfall or an earthquake. Smithmaster Bronson unsealed the crucible, and Doro took the vessel in his hands, opening a toothless maw that glowed weakly from within. Doro lifted the crucible to his mouth and tilted the molten mixture down his throat. When he'd encouraged the dregs out with his slab-like fingers, he handed the now empty clay crucible to the smith. "**I thank you. I will need four more bowls be fully restored. One of iron and copper, and three of silicates."**

"Three of what?" The Mastersmith asked incredulously.

"Silicates." Link said. "Just use sand or quartz." He sighed at the looks on the two grown men's faces. "Just do it. I will personally pay for the materials used."

"Very well." Master Slenson said, and shot Smithmaster Bronson a indecipherable look. "Why don't you stay with Doro, and we'll take care of the… er, silicates."

"All right." Link agreed, and the adult Hylians eagerly left the cramped room.

"**Don't Hylians know what silicates are?**" Doro asked in slow-dawning confusion.

"I'm afraid most Hylians do not." The Gerudo-raised boy said apologetically. "I don't suppose Gorons know much of what Hylians eat, do they?"

"**No.**"

"Well then, there you have it." Link sat down on the narrow mattress with a look of expectation. Doro made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat.

"**I see. I will rest now.**" And having said that, the Goron curled into a ball.

So Link was left there to watch the sleeping Goron alone.

* * *

Four more times Smithmaster Bronson returned with a full crucible. Four more times Doro drained the large earthen vessel. At last he sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of one rocky hand. When Master Bronson and Slenson left, Doro fixed Link with two eyes as blue as hot flames.

"**I understand you are the one who thought to melt stone and iron for me.**"

"I was." Link said.

"**Then I owe you my life. Before this day I did not know Hylians could create liquid metal or stone. And why would they? They do not need to eat it.**"

"Men found that iron and stone could be useful for more than just eating. For example, stone can be used to build shelters from the elements. An iron blade can cut down a plant or animal to eat."

"**I see. What do you want of me?**"

"What?" Link asked, startled.

"**No** **one goes out of their way without reason. What can I give in return for this knowledge that Hylians can melt metal and stone?**"

"I would ask much." The Hylian boy replied, and Doro shrugged.

"**I cannot refuse what I do not know.**"

"A willing blood sacrifice."

"**That is much, Link Forrester. And I would give it – but it would weaken me greatly, and I must wait for the man the King sends to aid my people, for they are starving."**

"Why?" Link wanted to know. "Why would they be starving?"

"**My people eat molten rock. Cooled volcanic rock will suffice only for a little while. Rocks that have been filled with magic are better, but those kinds are rare and hard to find. The Firemouth, what you call Death Mountain, has gone to sleep, and will not send forth blessed lava for us to consume.**"

"Has it gone dormant?" Link proposed tentatively, "Volcanoes do that sometimes."

Doro smiled a toothless grin, craggy features furrowing together.

"**At last, a Hylian who understands the ways of the earth. The Firemouth sometimes sleeps, but we Gorons have records carved on the walls of the Hall of Knowledge that tell us when the mountain will sleep. On the days before it goes to rest, we gorge on pumice, obsidian, and basalt flows, and then go to sleep with the mountain, to wake when it rises again. Always it has followed our records. But the mountain was not due to sleep for another half-century, so my people were not ready when it went to sleep a year ago. The rock in our stores are gone, the lava flows picked over, all magical rocks fed to the children, who we filled full enough that they might sleep until the next awakening. That is hope at least for the future. But soon the grown Gorons will die, and there will be no adults to raise the infants. Now I know this will not pass. I will go up the mountain to the city beneath rock, and I will bring my people to this place, to the smithy so they can eat their fill and sleep. But I cannot go alone. I will need a nimble Hylian to defend me from the creatures that live on the rock heights. I sent for the Hylian King's man, but he has not come. So though I am now filled, I still must wait for this man.**"

"Well, that's convenient." The Hylian boy said idly, scratching at a long ear. Doro blinked.

"**What, Link Forrester?**"

"Because I'm the one the King sent."

"**Surely you jest.**"

"How long were you waiting? I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"**Six months, Link Forrester. Why did the King send such a young warrior when he swore to defend us?**"

"Because the King doesn't really care about the Gorons, Sworn Brother or not, that's why." Link said bluntly. "Fortunately, you have an ally in the Crown Princess. She too knows about the ways of the earth, and that of commerce." True enough, Link supposed. "Four months into the Goron's absence, she noticed the lack of exports from your people, and sent me to find out what was happening." That was true as well, in a way. Zelda _had_ wondered about the sudden diminishment of Goron goods on the market, but hadn't deliberately sent Link to solve the problem. It was here Link was lost, over whether she'd assumed he'd find out on his outreach to the rocky people, or whether she hadn't deemed it important. Surely she'd simply neglected to tell him. Zelda had a good heart and a sharp mind, and was almost as good at playing people as Link was. "I didn't know I was sent to fight, but I'm capable of protecting myself and others nearby."

"**You are only a boy, even by my eyes.**"

"Oh, I'm young." Link agreed, "But I'm skilled with sword and bow, and better yet, trained to use magic in battle effectively. I've fought Wolfos, Stalfos, and Tektites on my journey here, and those I fought I beat." When Doro appeared to hesitate, he added, "Look, I'm your only choice. Are you going to let me come, or are you going to wait for the King's man who will never arrive?"

The fire in Doro's eyes turned white-hot in anger.

"**Then you must come, if you are all there is. When the crisis is over, there will be words to have with this Hylian King who claims to be our Sworn Brother.**"

"So you should." The Hylian boy agreed.

"**We will go tomorrow morning.**" Doro decreed.

"All right, Doro. I suppose I'd best arrange everything with Tavernkeeper Slenson, then."

The Goron nodded. Link stood up from the narrow mattress, and went to find the tavern keeper.

He returned after haggling out the terms of his stabling Deste for an unknown period of time, and they finally agreed that if he didn't return within two months, Master Slenson could have Deste as his own in payment for the horse's upkeep. It was an ideal agreement, as Link only intended to miss that time period unless he'd died, so Deste would have a new owner to care for him.

Dinner that night was the same as it had been the night before – a root vegetable stew and rough potato bread. The fare was hearty but simple, the stew overcooked, the bread gritty. Link was hungry enough that he didn't care. He ate quickly, took a quick, icy bath in the tavern's only washroom, and retired to bed in the room he shared with Doro.

* * *

Only Master Slenson saw Doro and Link off the next morning, at the start of a narrow gravel path at the back of the valley, rapidly winding up an incredibly steep lip of rock.

"Farewell, Link Forrester. Send my greetings to the Mountain Man." Master Slenson said, shaking hands with the boy. "Doro, I hope you do well." Doro nodded, then turned and stamped up the sad little trail. Link waved once, then hurriedly followed after the Goron.

The morning air was moist and chilly, the gravel muddy and not at all as loose as Link had feared. He took one last longing look at the very last outpost of civilization, in his mind. Who knew when he next would see mattresses, indoor water, and privies? Well, Link had signed up twice for his duty, first to King Ganondorf, and then to Zelda. He'd gotten himself into this, and there were people relying on him. Not just Hylians or Gerudo, but the Gorons as well.

"Okay. You can do this." He whispered to himself, slapping a little warmth into his cheeks, and scrambled up the mountain slope after Doro's lumbering, relentless pace.

* * *

1. Desert rock-creepers are reptilian creatures that are a combination of gecko, goat, and antelope. Rock-creepers are about two to three feet high, give or take, with long legs and two-clawed feet, with tan to brown leathery hides. They live in arid, rocky environments, can cling to sheer surfaces, and eat insects, rodents, and other small lizards. They are very poor eating, as they have a lot of gristle and their flesh tastes bitter, but they can do as dinner in a pinch. Their blood is very oily, and their hides are very difficult to be made into good quality leather. As such, they are considered something close to vermin, and are usually shooed out of the Fortress when they inevitably get in.

2. One of the first things I knew I wanted to do different was to not make the Gorons idiots. Also, the whole 'we only eat one type of rock' thing didn't make sense when they could always start a new mine. Also, in the game the Gorons seem a lot tougher than the Dodongos do. So I set out to create an entirely different reason for the Goron famine. I hope it suits everyone.

3. Yes, I am a closet geologist. And even more of a closet anthropologist. And a not-so closet psychologist. Actually, maybe it would be best to say I am first and foremost, a world builder who is fascinated by people..

4. Next chapter is titled Of Madmen. Ooooh.

5. Finally, it's all sorts of fun to hear the various speculations about where this story is going. So far, only the speculation about traitor's green has been correct. I think everyone will be wonderfully surprised by what I have in mind, but I won't spoil it for you guys!

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Spread the holiday cheer! Please review, and have a happy Thanksgiving!


	40. Madmen

Okay, big chapter is big, and long wait is too long. I was in a major rut with the Goron City chapter. But I'm over the hump now, so yay for that. Happy Christmas everyone!

We've reached 464 reviews, and 150,000 words! Wow!

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Of Madmen**

**

* * *

**

"**Come, Link Forrester.**" Doro said, gently nudging Link awake with a rocky forefinger from where the boy sprawled in his bedroll right across the narrow path that carved across the barren cliff face. It was the only flat surface currently available, so Link had made do the night before. "**Come. We are halfway to the city. Now that there is hope, I have wish to see my people again. And my husband.**" Doro added smugly.

Even half-asleep, Link caught that last part.

"Your _husband_, Doro?" He asked, wiping the night's sand from his eyes.

"**Yes.**"

"I thought – they said -" Link stopped, fumbling for words. "Doro, are you a woman?" He blurted. Doro eyed the boy with sapphire-flamed eyes that questioned the boy's mental welfare.

"**Yes, Link Forrester. I never said I was not.**"

"It's just that I assumed, I suppose. I'm sorry." Really, he was slipping badly if his time amongst the Hylians and Sheikah halfbreeds had caused him to assume a strong creature as male, especially after being raised almost entirely by strong, fierce women. "So how does one tell a male Goron from a female one? How are they different?"

"**That is only for grown Gorons to know, young one.**" Link flushed red at that, "**But sometimes older males cultivate hoary stalactites on their chins. Most men snap them off, though.**"

"I see. Thank you, Doro. I don't suppose we could stop by the home of the Mountain Man on our way to the city? He is supposed to live very close by."

"**There is no such place for a Hylian to live, Link Forrester. Any such places we left behind not five miles beyond the place they call Climbtown. If he is here, he will be on the path. If he is not, he is gone or has fallen. We will go quietly, and listen for this man.**"

Link agreed, and so the unlikely pair steadfastly walked down the precarious path until they came across a still figure splayed across the ground. Link cursed and hurried to the prone body's side. A quick check to the carotid artery on the man's neck proved he was still alive, his breaths shallow and pained but present against the back of Link's hand. The man's faded clothes were ripped and dark with blood in places. A hat, made of stiff leather and felt, sat discarded and half-crushed on the ground. A closer look at the rips in the man's clothing showed he'd been attacked by some creature with claws. Doro had assured Link there were no Wolfos to be found at this altitude.

"Not a Wolfos then," Link said, rifling through his bag for his healing pack. "Nor a Tektite either –there's no claw splinters from the appendages. But not bone either, so not any of the undead, either. What kind of creature with these kinds of claws lives up on the mountain, Doro?"

"**It could only be one of the mountain lions. One that must be desperate to attack a being of this size.**"

"Well, obviously he fended it off before succumbing to his injuries, but I think I can heal him yet."

Finally, he pulled out several bottles filled with various tonics and powders. But the tonics were for poison or burns, the powders for lesser injuries and certainly not enough to do more than clean wounds and prevent infection. He had nothing for the massive amount of blood the injured man had lost.

Nothing but amber fruit, the supposed miracle cure. Link had only received three from Ferrick Rauros, and was rather loathe to use one on a complete stranger so early on in his quest. But he couldn't just let the man in front of him die from such a horrific mauling. The various bottles went back into the magic pack, but for the cleaning powder. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the wrapped amber fruit, peeling the wax away and unwrapping the muslin from the papery flesh.

Remembering the various healing tips he'd learned mostly from Dark of the Weaver Clan, and from Ganondorf, Link took a deep breath and began. With some difficulty he peeled the man's clothes away from his wounds, first cleaning the bites and scratches with the cleansing powder, then washing his hands of the blood from a mountain spring a hundred yards back down the path. Doro helped to ease the man into a sitting position, and the stranger moved uneasily, stirring into consciousness.

Link carefully convinced the man to eat the amber fruit, having cut the lemon-shaped fruit into slices with his eating knife. After the last piece, the man's wounds sizzled, and healed so completely that all that was left to tell the man had once been injured was the tears and blood on his clothing. The man sighed in relief, then slipped into unconsciousness.

There was nothing to do but break camp right there. Link unfolded the tent, and with a little creative spacing by draping the tent fabric into a sort of lean-to against the rock face, there was just enough room for two Hylians and a Goron. With the hurry to heal the man over, Link was free to examine the man in closer detail.

He was very young, and very pale, with rakish dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his elegantly narrow nose. His jaw was square and clean shaven, his chin clefted, his cheekbones prominent but not high, his adam's apple protruding sharply from a strong neck. The man was of average height, with weak shoulders and a scrawny body. Where a great chunk of his thigh had been gouged out was now a little paler than the skin around it, the bite marks on his chest and arms just faint scars now. The claw marks across his face, arms and torso had completely vanished.

As if roused by the attention paid to his person, the man slowly opened eyes as black as night, to survey those looking at him. One blink, a second, and he was fully awake.

"I say. Does anyone have the number of that truck?" He asked, almost to himself, his voice soft and gentle. Link and Doro looked down upon the man, wondering what exactly, a truck was. "Ah. Never mind. It was a puma, after all. Now who are you? I take it you rescued me, and-" He sat up slowly, feeling his body experimentally. "Healed me as well, I see. My thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm Link Forrester, and this is Doro of the Gorons." Link said, gesturing to his rocky companion. "We found you when you were very badly hurt."

"I remember." The man said ruefully, a smile quirking the left corner of his lips. "I am Anasi Spider. I have been on this damnable mountain for some time now, but I assure you it won't be for much longer after my little adventure with that mountain cat."

"A pleasure." Link replied, "Do you know where it went? I don't fancy running into a man-eater on my journey."

"Like I did? Oh, I took care of it." Anasi smiled pleasantly. "I'm sure it would be most contrite, if it did, after all, still exist."

"I see."

"I'm usually much better about these sorts of things, but it surprised me, which is what led to my sorry state earlier." He frowned. "Now if those blasted pilgrims will stop coming up here looking for advice without telling me how to get down, I will be happy with my lot." Link blinked, then thought quickly.

"You wouldn't happen to be the Mountain Man, would you?" He ventured, and the man rolled his dark eyes, tsking softly under his breath.

"Mountain Man. Is that what they call me? Oh no, that won't do at all. It's such a cliché, besides. Why couldn't it be the Wise Man, or the Mysterious Shaman or some such like that. Storytellers these days have no class, let alone a little imagination. Well, it won't matter once I get off this mountain and its clichéd name, I will be no longer the Mountain Man. No, I will be Hill Man, or Flatland Man, or even better – a dapper city man." He pressed two hands to his eyes and groaned. "Ye God! Why did I have to come out here, to this backwater country and its illiterate peons and its two-rate Goddesses? And yet, the action is all here, or so I was told."

"You're from Outside?" Link said, choosing his words carefully as it occurred to him that the mysterious Anasi was likely as dangerous as he was strange. He certainly didn't look it, but looks could be deceiving, and Link's instincts were registering a distinct sensation of peril from this man. "From beyond the mountains. I 'spose we look like bumbling idiots, if the technology is that much greater for the rest of Vanity. Still, it's not like there's anything around here that isn't named already. As for the action, I wouldn't know myself, but tensions are rather high these days between the North and the South."

"Ah." Anasi said with great interest, peering at Link, "A keen observer I see. You've met a foreigner before."

"That's correct."

"Well. Well, well. This could be interesting, after all. Tensions brewing, a civil war in the works, perhaps? An oppressive king, an industrializing citizenry looking for rights of their own, I might wager. And enough room for a few high-risk, long shot missions, I wouldn't wonder. And then there's you." Anasi's eyes locked onto Link's. "You're the young hero in all of this, no doubt."

"I'm no hero." Link said flatly, and turned to tidy up his bedroll from which Anasi had risen.

"And you Doro, I'll bet you're the faithful companion on the journey. The comedic relief must come from someone, after all." Doro's rocky face crunched into a frown.

"**Link Forrester has agreed to protect me and my people on the way to Goron City and back to Climbtown. Your words are rude, but I am willing to let them pass since you are a man of great learning and wisdom and thus more enlightened. Perhaps you know more than I of what is proper protocol amongst beings. It is not the Goron way, however.**"

"Well said. We must all strive to get along." Anasi blithely agreed. "Now, young hero, might you have some food in that bottomless pack of yours? I am quite famished."

Link eyed the setting sun and decided it was close enough to dinnertime to merit cooking. Best to just go along with what the wise man said, he figured. "Just let me prepare something. Do you like salted fish?"

"It's tolerable."

"That's what we're having tonight." Link pulled out a pot from his pack, and while his magic-powered cook stone was heating up, went a hundred yards to the same spring he'd used to wash earlier and filled his pot with water. He returned to the tent, and once the water in the pot was boiling, he poured in a small measure of rice, dried bits of carrot and peas, and slices of salted fish, then let the mixture begin to simmer. While the food cooked, Link and Doro informed Anasi of their mission to the Goron city, and the troubles that had befallen the golem-like race. Anasi listened gravely until the food was finished. The ultimate result in the pot was vaguely soup-like, as the water had turned into a salty broth. There was just enough for two – Doro having fed in Climbtown, she could go for a month now without any more molten stone to eat.

The two elves ate in silence, Link quickly, Anasi neatly and methodically. Doro merely watched them, still as stone. Finally Anasi sat back with a satisfied sigh, and Link tidied up the pot and cookware. The sky was dark outside the tent, so Link turned on his light stone, and let Doro accompany him to the spring to wash the pot and dirty bowls.

Anasi was seated against the rock face inside the lean-to tent when they returned, his clothes miraculously no longer tattered.

"Will you let me stay the night here?" The man asked, and Link agreed. "In return for your hospitality, I'll entertain you both with a story. I've always loved stories." He tilted his head, brown hair falling into his dark eyes. "In fact, what better way to spend the night than for each of us to tell a tale? It is quite done in the lands beyond Azavaire - what you natives prefer to call Hyrule."

"That sounds fun." Link allowed, and Anasi smiled.

"Now, Ansalian tradition holds that in a round of tale-telling, the youngest goes first. I assume Doro of the Gorons is older than you, Link."

"**That is correct. I am four thousand years old.**" Doro replied, and Link and Anasi stared, Link incredulously, Anasi intrigued.

"An immortal, then. How interesting. I'm quite a lot older than that myself. Now Link – what tale will you tell us?"

"I'll tell the story of the Hylian man and his Gerudo wife."

Anasi leaned back against the rock wall, drawing his jacket tighter around himself. Link took a deep breath, and began.

"A long time ago, there was a Hylian man living in Drought Country, who took a Gerudo woman for his wife…"

* * *

The man's name was Jarek, and he was a stonemason like his father, a very influential man in a small town near the border between Drought Country and the Gerudo Allotment. He was unmarried for many years, for he wished to save his earnings until he could afford a house, a wife, and a family. Many respectable men had daughters they wished to marry to Jarek, but as he knew he could not comfortably afford it yet, Jarek declined the men's offered daughters.

Now, a Gerudo woman by the name of Kolyaru often came to the town to buy medicinal herbs from the local healer, to promote fertility in women, a drug greatly used by Gerudo women. She was golden of skin, and her hair was long and dark as red mahogany. Her nose was regal and her red mouth always smiling. She was gentle-natured, capable and skilled in the kitchen.

Jarek often saw her in the market when she came to buy the healer's herbs, and determined to have her for himself. He spoke with his father and mother for advice.

Jarek's father said:

"She is beautiful, she is productive, and she is silent. This woman will make a better wife than any of the girls around you now. The girls of this town are always chattering, but no thought in their heads for all their words! I myself had to go to Parchen to find your mother, it was so bad. And though she is Gerudo, she is no warrior. Why, they say these Gerudo women are insatiable in bed, and love to bear children. You will do well to marry her."

But his mother said:

"She is beautiful, she is productive, and she is silent. The girls in this town are always chattering, but no thoughts in their heads for all their words! What would your father have done with such a wife if he had not chosen me? He would not have a seat on the council, I assure you, my beloved son. This woman looks to be handy and intelligent. But she is Gerudo, and will bear you no sons to take up the practice after you are old. Always remember this, so you will know what you are getting into!"

Jarek thought about what his mother and father had said, and decided to offer Kolyaru a place in his household as his wife. She accepted, but first returned to the Gerudo Fortress to take the advice of her mother.

Kolyaru's mother said:

"So he is handsome, he is productive, and he is a man of quiet but prudent habits. And he wants you for his wife! Well, Gerudo women do not marry Hylian men. It is just not done. You cannot trust Hylians, even the women. They shun us in the market, they call our beauties ugly and hook-nosed! But I see your mind is made up. Go then, and marry this man. But when he turns you out because you gave him no sons, don't come crying to me!"

Kolyaru remained unmoved, and returned to the town in Drought Country to marry Jarek. They made a handsome couple, and found they were very well matched. The townspeople were wary and distrustful at first, but Kolyaru's quiet, sensible ways slowly won them over. Only those fathers and girls who Jarek rejected continued to hate the Gerudo bride.

Kolyaru soon found herself with child, so Jarek readied his new house for the new arrival – a little girl with hair the russet hue of a fox. She was an easy babe, always cheerful and quick to smile. Jarek doted on his daughter, and was satisfied.

They were happy for some years, until Kolyaru became pregnant once more. This time she bore a daughter with dark red hair, intelligent and sensible in manner. Jarek doted also on this daughter, and was satisfied with his life.

Jarek's reputation as a mason grew, and his business flourished. His two daughters were the joy of the family and of the family's neighbors. Kolyaru grew with child again. The third daughter was quiet and somber, and as she grew, they found she had great talent in every kind of art. But this time, Jarek wished more and more for a son to train in his craft, and to carry on the family name. On this he stayed silent.

The years passed, and Jarek grew more and more resentful of his wife's inability to give him a son. Yet again, Kolyaru became pregnant with a daughter. This daughter had burnt orange hair, and was kind-hearted and generous with everyone she met.

Jarek grew angry and rebuked Kolyaru, saying:

"I have had enough! That is four dowries I will have to pay! We will not sleep in the same bed again unless you can give me a son."

At this Kolyaru wept bitterly, for she could not do such a thing. True to his word, Jarek made his wife sleep in the children's room, and they quickly grew more and more apart. Soon the husband and wife did not even speak to each other. Kolyaru became desperate, and plied her husband with wine and spirits, hoping to soften his anger. When he was drunk enough, he would kiss and fondle her, and sometimes speak kindly to her, but he would not sleep with her. So she went down to the same healer from whom she had used to buy herbs for fertility before she had been married, and requested a love potion that would make her husband sleep with her again. She paid the man with her own earnings, and that night she again plied Jarek with wine laced with the potion she had bought. He spoke tenderly to her, kissed her, and took her to his bed for the first time in a year. Kolyaru was overjoyed, thinking everything would be as it had been, but when Jarek woke and found what they had done in the night, he threw her out of his house, and drove her and their daughters to the town gate, cursing at them.

With no where else to go, she returned to the Gerudo Fortress, and went to her mother's house, who clucked her tongue and said:

"All I told you would happen has come to pass! Why did you not heed your mother's words? No matter – our sisters in the Fortress will gladly welcome four beautiful, talented girls. I will find you a job, and perhaps then you will find a woman who will marry you and treat you better than that horrible man. For shame!"

So Kolyaru settled into Fortress life once more, and though she missed her husband, she was as happy as she could be in the situation.

In her absence, Jarek divorced Kolyaru, and then married a woman he had rejected many years before. She chattered all the time, but there was never a thought in her head as she spoke. She did not handle money well, and acted insensibly. He slept with her every night, but she never grew pregnant, for she was barren.

Back at the Fortress, Kolyaru grew heavy with child one last time, and gave birth, this time to a son, who she named Hassanerf. How the Fortress celebrated at the birth of the new Gerudo King! Now that she was the mother of a king, she sent a messenger to Jarek to tell him of his son, but the messenger was turned away by Jarek's new wife, and returned to the Fortress without telling him.

So Jarek lived unhappily to the end of his days, while Kolyaru lived richly as the King's Mother until she found a faithful wife for her own, and found happiness again.

This is why a Gerudo woman should never marry a Hylian man – they will always demand a son.

* * *

"Well told!" Anasi said, beaming. "So the Gerudo women rarely produce male infants?"

"That's correct." Link said. "And even when sons are born, they rarely live longer than a fortnight."

"Sounds like some kind of genetic disorder activated somehow or other. I'm no scientist, so I wouldn't know." Anasi said to himself.

"The rest of Vanity must be a strange place." Link replied, confused, "There are so many things you speak of that are foreign to me. Not just ideas, but words as well that I've never heard."

"I am very, very old, Link." Anasi said very quietly, in an almost melancholy tone. "And from farther away than you might possibly imagine. I have seen so much, but I doubt that much of Vanity – which is not as different from Azavaire as you might think - remembers the things I still recall… Bah. I wish to talk of other things. Now Doro, let us hear your tale."

"**Very well. I will speak of the creation of the Gorons by the Fire Spirit.**"

* * *

In the beginning, there were two spirits that lived on the flat lands of the world: the Fire Spirit, a woman, and the Ice Spirit, who was a man. Because there were no others, the Fire Spirit married the Ice Spirit, and they were happy for a while, until the Fire Spirit realized every day she spent with the Ice Spirit cooled her fire and brought her closer to death.

So she dug up earth and stone to make a cloak to protect herself against the chill of her husband, and thus created the first mountains. Safe within her mountain cloak, they were happy again. The Fire Spirit put forth lava to strengthen her cloak, and ash to nourish the plants that grew on her cloak's slopes. At the very peak of the mountains, the Ice Spirit rained silver snow down upon the cloak of his wife. When the snow melted against the lava and smoke, water ran down the mountain to water the plants on the slopes and on the flatlands that yet remained.

At first they were happy, the Fire Spirit and the Ice Spirit, but soon they wished for children to play upon the mountain's slopes, and to tend the plants which warmed the Fire Spirit.

So the Fire Spirit breathed life into a pile of volcano-strewn boulders, and said to her children: "You are my children. From fire you were borne, from fire you were strewn, and from fire you will be sustained. You will tend my mountains and lava flows. You will dig in the deep and bring up great treasures for the sun to see." She named them Gorons, and they obeyed her gladly and faithfully.

The Ice Spirit took great splinters of ice and soil and made fleshlings out of those materials. Ice was their bones, and soil their flesh. He breathed cold life into them, and said to his children: "You are my children. From water and earth you were made, from the sky comes your life. You will herd the beasts in the flatlands, and the plants on the slopes and plains." And he named them humans, but they did not like that name, and took the names Hylian, Sheikah, and Gerudo. And the Ice Spirit was angry, that they did not obey.

So he breathed intelligence into the fishes in the streams, and they grew to a greater size, until they had heads and arms like the humans. And the Ice Spirit said to his fish children: "You are my children. From water and reed you were made, to them do you cleave. You will swim in the rivers and the deeps. You will keep the land creatures from drowning, and tend the waterways of the land." And he named them Zora. At first they obeyed, but they grew proud, and let the land creatures to drown in the waterways, and soon the water in the rivers and lakes grew impure, which angered the Ice Spirit.

The Ice Spirit tried one last time to create obedient children. He breathed life into the Deku trees in the Lost Woods, and they dropped seedlings who grew limbs and bodies of wood. The Ice Spirit said to them: "You are my children. From wood and rain you were made, from the sun comes your life. You will tend the forests which keep my wife warm, and tend the trees that create air to breathe." And he named them Kokiri, and they obeyed him readily and with joy. They walked the paths of the forests, lighting fires to open the seeds of the great trees that grow there.

So at last the Ice Spirit was pleased with children he could call his own. The Gorons and the Kokiri were obedient and kept the balance, but the Hylians, the Sheikah, the Gerudo and the Zora did not, and so the land suffers to this day under disobedient children of the Ice Spirit.

* * *

"Do the Gorons really believe that, Doro?" Link wondered, frowning. Doro gave the boy a sidelong glance with her burning coal eyes.

"**Yes. Hylians do not tend the balance. They cut down too many trees to burn or build houses larger than they need. They tear down mountains just for the stone underneath. They change the course of rivers to suit themselves, they plant crop plants where only grass should be. They hunt down creatures but waste the meat. Or so the legends say. I cannot understand it.**"

"I see. Then why make allegiances with the Hylian King at all? Why would the Gorons want such a leader to be their Sworn Brother?"

"Because," Anasi cut in, as gentle and sharp as a barber's razor, "Sometimes mortals must ally with those they despise just to survive. I am above that, of course, but I have seen it happen nonetheless."

"**That is correct, Mountain Man.**" Doro replied, and Link's ears strained to decipher any emotion in it. But it was too low and too elemental – too alien, really, for Link to hear a difference in mood.

"Excellent, excellent." Anasi said idly, rubbing knobbly hands together. "Two very good stories, neither I have heard before – a rare thing, in my humble experience. Perhaps it was worth crossing the border after all. I think I shall tell you a legend of the Mad God – the tale of the Serpent and the Last Saint."

* * *

After the Mad God created Vanity, he brought to this world Willam, whom he loved best, to see and marvel at all creation. So Willam Firstman was the first person to live on Vanity. The Mad God was content, but Willam grew lonely. So the Mad God chose one hundred people from that other world, to live with Willam and populate Vanity. These people were called the Hundred, and they are the ancestors of every thinking being on this planet.

After a long time, Willam and the Hundred died of old age, leaving behind their children. These children grew wary of the Mad God and all his powers, so the God grew lonely once more. He determined to find individuals in the Hundred's descendants who would serve him and keep him company. So he sent word to the priests around the world, that immortality and great powers would come to those who completed the majority of twenty impossible tasks. Those who succeeded would become Saints, and live forever. Some tasks involved solving puzzles, others required feats of intelligence, bravery, or strength. Some could be completed alone, others only in a group.

In those days the entire world was chilled from the ice fields in Idre, which extended so far as to almost touch the warmer coasts. Life was hard in those days – magic was required to grow the crops, to keep snow and ice from the fields, to keep houses and people warm. Many humans died before they reached their thirtieth year, so it was reasonable that many wished to become Saints, and thus be free of the chill, or gain the power to grant prosperity to their villages. Many tried, many failed, and not all who completed the tasks were found worthy by the Mad God. But over the course of two hundred years, the Mad God found just as many Saints to walk Vanity in his name. Some served him directly, whether it was to be his companion or to spread the word of the Mad God's feats and splendor to the unwilling worshipers. Others ruled their communities, others found a magical solution to warm even deepest Idre. Others disappeared, never to be seen again, for they had returned to the other world from whence the Hundred had come.

It was three hundred and forty years since the Hundred had been brought to Vanity when a girl with white hair as short as a man's bravely took up the Saint's Tasks. None knew from whence she had come, for she claimed neither family, homestead, nor allegiance to any king or founder. They called her Taith. Taith Zalman was her name, and she was keen of mind and bold of heart.

For the first task, she chose her name, and declared her intent to become a Saint.

For the second she gathered a party of hunters and shot down one of the deadly horned hinds. She took the hind's hide and crafted the leather into boots that would not wear down, nor allow any injury to the legs of the wearer.

For the third task she went to the city called Cathedral, where she rang the great bell that hung in the church's heights. While in town she struck down a priestly imposter, and restored the true patriarch to his proper post.

For the fourth task Taith solved a riddle-cube in the house of Jill the Hoarder, and passed on.

For the fifth task she studied in the city-school of Archivalest, which stands no longer, and learned to cut down an obelisk made of diamond with only a breath of wind.

For the sixth task, she went to River-mill, to the great school of the fighting arts. There she trained for half a year, before she was deemed a warrior, and given a bladed staff as proof of her mastery.

For the seventh task, Taith and the followers she had gathered climbed Mount Mason, a great peak in the midst of the Pillars of the Sky. Atop the mountain stood the Tree of Gold, from which Taith had to pluck a golden leaf from. Halfway up the slope, the air grew too thin to press on. Exhausted, the party slept.

In the night, a great and loathsome serpent slithered into the midst of their camp, impenetrable scales red striped with bronze, the foul underbelly black as night. It crawled right up to the sleeping form of Taith Zalman, and tasted her face with a forked tongue. She woke then, and caught up her knife to defend herself.

Before she could cut off the massive thing's head, it spoke to her.

"Do not strike me." It hissed, "You will surely never get to the top of the mountain if you do." Taith stayed her hand.

"Why would you help me, snake?" She demanded.

"It is in my interests." It replied. "Long ago the great ruling family of Eastland cursed me to stay on this mountain for all eternity. And so I have remained imprisoned on this mountain for a century. I can never leave unless I am carried off by human hands."

"How would anyone be able to carry your bulk, serpent?" Taith asked.

"I can change size easily enough. Observe." Then miraculously, it shrunk from fifty feet long to five.

"So you can." And she raised up her foot to crush the creature's head with her heel. It hissed and went white-hot, and the girl stumbled back. She called for her companions to defend her, but they would not wake.

"I am not so easily offed." It said, "I am a Fire-Snake, flame is my nature, and my venom burns just as much."

"What have you done to them?" Taith demanded angrily.

"Done? It was not I, but the cold wind off the mountain that makes them sleep so. The only cure is to turn back and climb back down."

"That I cannot do."

"Cannot? Or rather, will not? I am your only hope to solve this task."

"You want me to carry you from this mountain in return for your help, but you do not say how you will help me."

"Heat is the cure for the mountain's sleeping wind. Take me up, my scales against your skin. I will keep you warm." It promised, and she sighed. She bent to pick up the serpent, who shrunk to two feet in length. It went docilely, and she tucked it into her clothes, against her chest. So that night she climbed to the top of the mountain and plucked a golden leaf from the Tree of Gold. The snake kept her warm, kept her company on the long climb up, and it did so also for the descent. The next morning Taith Zalman woke her companions, and they left the mountain far behind. With the spell broken on the snake, the white-haired girl said her goodbyes to the serpent, ready to part ways.

"Take me with you, Taith Zalman." It said in reply.

"To where?"

"Everywhere you are. I will defend you." So Taith returned the snake to its place within her coat, a hot mass of coils against her skin.

For the eighth task, she went to Tabletop, hunted down a dragon, slew it with the help of the Fire-Snake, and stole its hoard.

For the ninth task, they went to Sandweed, and captured Will-o-wisps.

For the tenth task, she leapt off the edge of the Canyon View cliff, dropping into the river below. One of her followers tried to imitate her, and perished in the fall. They buried the dead girl GywnLana with grief and wailing, then pressed on.

For the eleventh task, the party went to Thatch, and tamed wild reindeer. When one of the elderly reindeer grew ill and died, the Serpent grew massive and swallowed the carcass whole. And yet Taith laughed at this, having been thoroughly seduced already by the creature's wit and wiles.

For the twelfth task, she and her friends worked in the Amber Glasse plantation, owned by the family of Saints that ruled all of Eastland – the Redforsens. When the harvest was in, they left once more, before the family could discover the Fire-Snake's presence.

The thirteenth task was held at Ripple Caverns, the Mad God's favorite home. There resided a colony of great, bloodthirsty, hideous batlike creatures called Vampires. This task involved slaying a dozen of them. Naturally, Taith took the time to learn about the adversary, under the tutelage of the Mad God. But he did not reveal his godhood to her, not at first, introducing himself as Aaron instead.

The Mad God was immediately taken with her, for she was clever, soft-spoken, and a deeply strong woman, capable of both power and gentleness. In Taith Zalman the Mad God found all the things he desired in a companion and consort, things missing in every mortal he had met yet, and determined to make her immortal and take her as his wife.

When the time came for it, she fell to the task eagerly, to rid the world of the vile creatures was a delight – she was no squeamish girl cringing from what had to be done. Within a month enough vampires had come forth and were disposed of by the white-haired girl. As she and her companions left, the Mad God, as Aaron, begged to come with her, and she agreed readily, for she greatly enjoyed his company. Still, to his dismay, the Fire-Snake never left her side.

The group went on to Somnolent Hills, where an illusionist of great power resided. The fourteenth task required breaking his magic-induced dreams. Being naturally strong-willed, she did not find it difficult.

For the fifteenth task, they went to Kisaten, the town of marriages and weddings. The task was to enter a trial marriage for four months. The Mad God offered himself gladly, but for some reason, Taith Zalman rejected his offer quite uncharacteristically. Willfully and against the urgings of her fellow companions, she declared she would rather wed the Serpent instead.

It took liberal amounts of the dragon's hoard to convince the priest who wed Taith and the Fire-Snake. The following four months did not change her mind, despite all her friends' benevolent interventions. She would not be swayed. When the four months were over, Taith Zalman and her followers left Kisaten for Humbleton.

For the sixteenth task, she had to impress Milsaro the Bard, a man who wrote great songs of triumph and glory.

For the seventeenth task, she and her followers sailed safely across marauder-infested waters, fortunately avoiding harm.

For the eighteenth task, Taith and her companions had to cross the Pillars of the Sky through a mountain pass frequented by frost-giants.

The second to final task, was to discover the identity of the Queen of Jackson City, during a masquerade ball. With the help of the serpent, Taith was able to track the Queen by scent alone.

At last, the final and twentieth task, Taith Zalman had to face the Labyrinth at Riddleton. Alone. She left her companions, and the Fire-Snake, behind at the entrance. The Mad God abandoned his mortal disguise, and entered the heart of the maze, to wait for his love to arrive.

It took two days for her to reach the center. She was worn and wounded from the various traps that laid within those walls.

"Aaron." She said, upon seeing him sitting upon the throne that sat in the heart of the labyrinth, "What are you doing here?"

"I am not Aaron, my dear." The God said, "I am the God who created this world. And it is I who appoint each Saint, I who give them their unnumbered days of life, their powers and their status."

"You're still sore about my choosing Stass." Taith said softly.

"Stass? I know no one named Stass, dearest."

"It's his name. Surely you must know the serpent's name by now."

"And it was a mistake, marrying such a creature, was it not? Come to me, and I will set your legend amongst the stars – you will be a Goddess, not some lover of a beast who speaks." He said softly and persuasively.

But she shook her pale, short-maned head.

"It was a hard four months, I'll admit. But you have to accept that he's my choice of mate, scales or no."

"It was only a trial marriage, you know." The Mad God reassured.

"I meant my vows." She said adamantly.

"What did that creature say, to turn your head so? What could he hold over your head to make you submit to that – that _thing's_ attentions?"

"Stass at least is honest about who he is. You – you've masqueraded as someone else – I could tell the whole time you were lying to me, but I didn't know about what. For all I knew, perhaps you were wanted for treason, murder, theft – maybe you were already married to another, and I couldn't say yes to that oaf Cyrus, no matter how long he's waited. I wanted to know what I was getting into, and you _lied_."

"But now you know, my dear. Everything can be as it should be."

"It's too late. The journey is over, and I can't be something I'm not. I'd make a lousy Goddess, anyway. You – you wouldn't love me if I was different from how I am, would you?"

"No." The Mad God admitted.

"Then you understand why I can't be with you."

"I don't."

"Then there's nothing I can do to change your mind. Do you know why I want to be a Saint?"

"Immortality?"

"To get back to the other world that you took me from."

"But Vanity is better than the Earth!" He protested.

"Perhaps. But I don't belong here. Neither does Stass. Why couldn't you just be happy with your life there? Why all this… this madness?"

"So if I saint you, what will you do? Serve me? Worship me? Become a missionary? That is what it is to be a Saint."

"I'll return now and again – guard the people's freedom, turn back the ice in Idre if I must. I won't stop talking to you and disappear."

"Very well, Taith Zalman. I cannot deny you. Come here." He commanded and she obeyed. The Mad God anointed her with sacred oil, and she was Sainted. He led her out of the Labyrinth, and left.

There was much rejoicing amongst her followers. The first thing Taith Zalman did with her newfound powers was to restore the serpent Stass to human form. The next, was to return her friends to their homes. Then, with her serpentine husband, she returned to that other world from whence the Hundred and yea, even Willam Firstman and the Mad God had come from. They returned several times to visit the Mad God, but it wasn't the same for the God and Creator.

For all the many women the Mad God met afterward, no matter how charming, beautiful, well-spoken, or perceptive they might be, none could hold a candle to the place the God had set aside in his heart for Taith Zalman. So he went on with ruling Vanity, travelling secretly amongst his subject for many eons.

That is why the Mad God never took a wife.

* * *

Anasi finished his story and looked up. Doro had long since curled into a sleeping boulder – while Link observed the man with tired cobalt eyes.

"That's an interesting story." The boy commented, "Was it true?"

"Most of it." Anasi replied, "It was based on fact, at least, before the hordes of storytellers had their way with it."

Link fidgeted slightly, then stopped.

"There were some bits that didn't seem to match."

"How so?" The dark-haired man inquired.

"Well, most of it was just a recital of her deeds, but then you spoke about actual conversations she had with people – those bits didn't quite fit."

"Well done," Anasi clapped quietly, "Those were the parts I myself added in."

"You made her sound like a real person, heroine or not, when she talked." Link added.

Anasi sighed, leaning against the rock face in the tent, black eyes unfocusing slightly.

"That's because she was real. I know her myself, being as ancient," and here he laughed, "As ancient I am. There is no brighter star than her, and certainly no equal to her, but for the Mad God."

"You know him, then?" Link probed, curious.

"So full of questions, young Link Forrester." The older man said with a smile, "I know him passingly well. Old, mighty, and just. His eyes see far, his stature noble, his punishments are both swift and merited. And he gives forgiveness as well. When Taith Zalman and her Stass returned to Vanity, centuries later, he gave them all of Eastland to rule, supplanting the Redforsen dynasty in return for a welcome household whenever he visited. Ah! It is late – and young boys, however worldly, must get their sleep. I understand you have a colony of Golems to save tomorrow."

"I suppose." Link admitted, and readied himself for bed under the uncomfortably watchful eye of the so-called Mountain Man. Once he was in his bedroll, he listened to the other man's preparations, trying to fall asleep.

Instead, long after Anasi had doused the light stone, Link lay silent in the dark, wondering what, exactly, the foreign man was playing at.

* * *

The morning that dawned the next day was moist but warm. Link stretched slowly and luxuriously, realizing he was no longer quite so bothered by the thin air. Breakfast ended up being slightly scorched porridge – Anasi's presence so unsettled Link that he neglected to watch the food he was cooking, and thus burnt the meal. The other man ate without complaint, however.

Long, tense minutes stretched out, until finally, through some unspoken agreement, both Link and Anasi tidied up their things and prepared to depart – Link and Doro to the Goron City, Anasi down the mountain and into Hyrule Proper, having received directions from Link on how to get to Climbtown.

Link gave a great sigh of relief as the Mountain Man turned the bend in the path and disappeared from sight. There was something about the man, something deep and primal within Link's brain, that screamed with unease when in close proximity to the man. To put it plainly – there was a flavor of the unnatural about the man, _if he really was only a man_, anyway.

He readjusted his pack strap, then patiently faced the steep slope that the path had to climb on the way to the Goron City.

"Come on, Doro – let's go."

* * *

"What an interesting young lad," Anasi mused to himself, strolling down the mountain path towards Climbtown. "He is certainly worth more watching after, I should say. Well! One good turn deserves another, don't you think, gentle readers? Besides, it was I who put the mountain to sleep in the first place – I've no wish for lava and ash to rain down on me, nor noxious gases to poison these immortal lungs. But perhaps… If I woke this Death Mountain – what a name! – gently, perhaps that will be a solution that benefits my rescuers just as well as myself."

He crouched where he stood, pressing a palm to the bare stone.

"Mountain wake, and magma simmer, I bid you slowly and gently arise once more to slake the thirst of the rock-hewn Gorons."

The Firemouth gave such a subtle shudder that only he could detect it.

"Good as done." Anasi said, pleased, then stood and dusted dirt from his clever hands. "Now, to leave this forsaken place – godforsaken, aha. After all, _I_ am forsaking it, no? Ha ha. …But perhaps I am rambling on too much for your tastes.

"Let it be known then, that this country's reckoning by me is almost due. I have business here – and surely the game is almost afoot by now. I've let those three Saints have their fun – let's see how well Farore, Nayru, and that hothead Din are faring these days, shall we? I promise it will be… _most interesting_."

* * *

1. Anasi is probably my favorite character ever. He's so much fun. But beware – you can't trust anything he says.

2. For the record – everything I put in this story is deliberate. Side-stories or stories within stories may seem like side tracks, but they're meant to reveal more of the world of Vanity, or explain a certain side's point of view or how certain things came about to be. Just trust me, my dears. I know what I'm doing.

3. For those who wish to know, Idre is pronounced "E-dray." Kisaten is pronounced "Key-sah-ten."

4. I will eventually get around to writing Taith Zalman's tale in full detail. For now, here is the hearsay version of it. Of course, before I can write that story, I have to finish this one, and the sequel, and then 5 completely original tales set afterwards in the world of Vanity. That's a lot of writing to do!

5. After Christmas, I will be away from the internet until New Years. Don't expect a new chapter until after that. I will do my best to get as much written as possible.

* * *

Reviews are great. Think of it as a Christmas present to me.


	41. City of Stone

Hey there! I have been super busy, especially since my New Year's resolution is to whip my closet and bookshelves into some kind of organization. To wit - I have 4 bookshelves, and they're all double-stacked. I'm halfway through, and my attic already contains 3 giant bins of books and national geographics. That's a lot of books, people!

Yesterday I had what I call a 'plot epiphany' - in which I find an answer to multiple plot holes. It's a big change, but ultimately I think it will improve the story, in the fields of character development and overall tone. So last night I was very very busy rewriting my latest chapter. It's so much fun to keep everyone guessing!

As of 1-6-2011, this story has 482 reviews, 192 favs and exactly 200 story alerts. As always, I'm ridiculously happy to see people enjoying this story.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Forty: City of Stone**

* * *

At last Link and Doro reached the final stretch of the path, and the climb was perilously steep. At one point, Link had to cling on Doro's back while the Goron woman clambered easily up a sheer slope of rock that had given way, exposing layers of basalt flow and pyroclastic ash. By now, Link's calves and thighs were hard with muscle from the endless stagger upwards.

Just as they reached the top of the climb, they were menaced by a Rock Tektite. Link jumped off Doro's back, and stunned the land crustacean with a well-aimed rock in the singular eye. As it clawed at its eye, Link drew his scimitar from his pack, and with a hard down-cut, lopped off a great bony leg right at the joint. The thing chattered in pain, stumbled, and then Doro's great stone foot stomped down upon the carapace, cracking the shell and bursting the soft body within. The Tektite gave a great shriek, then died, remaining limbs twitching slightly before subsiding. The cry called four others to the area, but by then Link had his bow and quiver, and from the safety of the ridge, shot each of the four through the eye from a distance.

The Tektites, most of them, probably wouldn't die. Link didn't need them to. There was no way the cycloptical creatures could follow after him with their sight gone. As the four shrieked out eerie, trilling cries of agony, Link eyed the squashed Tektite's carcass speculatively. He missed fresh meat greatly, having only downed a few mountain doves a few days ago. But no – unlike Lake or Freshwater Tektites, Rock Tektite flesh was sour, rubbery, and nigh-unchewable. Pity. He missed Water Tektite meat, and he hadn't eaten any since he'd left the Fortress. Hylians held Tektites to be unclean creatures, not to be eaten, because they swam in the water but also could creep like a land creature. He wasn't quite sure why, as Hylians were perfectly okay consuming prawns or lobster. Maybe it was because unlike prawns, Tektites could eat you just as easily. So they were killed as pests or threats, and disposed of as rubbish. Waste of perfectly good, sweet meat, at least in the case of Water Tektites.

Something bleated. Link looked up, and saw a very, very large mountain goat that also appeared interested in the group of wounded Tektites. It trotted over, sniffing at the mess of yellowish blood and bile, then, noticing the Hylian boy, bared sharp teeth that _definitely did not belong to a plant eater._

"Din's Eye!" Link swore, and ran for Doro. She helped him climb onto her shoulders.

"**You are afraid of the Eater Ram?" **She inquired.

"Eater Ram?" He said, "Yes, because it looks like it wants to eat me! Why is it called that?"

"**Because it eats other creatures that are made of flesh."**

"I can see that!" Link replied between his teeth. "I am also made of flesh, Doro, and I'd like to keep that flesh intact. Is it blocking the path?"

"**No."**

"Then by all means, let's get out of here. Please?" He added, as if politeness would make his companion move faster.

"**Very well. Let us go." **She let him grab onto the protruding rock that served as a spinal knob on the back of her thick neck, and lumbered up the slope. The Eater Ram made as if to follow, but was distracted by a pained noise from a blinded Tektite. Link shuddered at the fading noises of the Ram feasting on dying flesh, heavy hooves cracking open chitin shells.

* * *

"**We are almost to the city**.**" **Doro said, and Link lifted his head from where he'd been resting it on the crown of the Goron's stony skull. **"Look – the Needle Bridge."**

Ahead was a perilously thin natural stone arch, spanning the deep chasm of a fault line gorge. The arch was so delicate Link feared Doro would break it as she stamped across the bridge. He breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped onto solid ground once more.

"**Climb down, Link Forrester."** Doro said, **"I had told you I would need a Hylian to face the creatures of the mountain. Now you must face the mountain as my champion."** She cupped her great hand and drew her arm behind her so Link could clamber down, grasping her thumb as a handle as he did so. He sighed as his feet touched the ground for the first time in hours, and stretched luxuriously.

"The mountain, Doro? And why a Hylian?" Link asked.

"**The mountain spirit takes the form of a fleshling. So a fleshling must fight it. See, it comes."**

Ash on the wind blew into his eyes, and he wiped at them, eyes watering. He blinked furiously to clear his vision, to see a woman standing where there had only been a boulder before.

"Who would pass, to reach the City of Stone, where dwell the Gorons, eaters of fire and keepers of the mountain's balance?" The woman demanded in a harsh voice like the grate of rock on rock. Despite the chill in the air, and a scanty covering of battered leather, her skin was smooth and as red as a Hylian whose skin had been badly sunburnt. Her eyes were the bright black and red of rushing lava, her hair dark and dusted with pale ash.

"I, Link Forrester, would pass with Doro of the Gorons to the Stone City, to tell the Goron people they will not starve." He said with as much confidence as he could muster, blue eyes on the obsidian knives strapped to each thigh. She sneered, red lips twisting.

"Hear me, Link Forrester, if that be your name, the words of Pyratae, the Spirit of the Firemouth, when I say your tongue is that of a liar. You reek of false confidence and deceit. And I will strike you down where you stand, both you and yea, even the very chieftess of the Gorons, for choosing such a champion to fight her battles."

"Hey! Just because I lie doesn't mean I don't have good intentions!" Link protested, but the spirit held up a hand.

"You are Hylian, fleshling. Hylians do not preserve the balance."

"So letting the people who depend on you starve is keeping the balance?" He wanted to know, and Pyratae fixed him with a level look.

"I care not for the puny feelings of fleshlings, nor their ignorance. The Goron people know the ways of the earth – they know rock will remain rock, be it molten, ash or ground to dust. All must return to the earth, and even sedimentary rock will one day sink into the depths and return to molten slag. Trees and creatures too become part of Vanity, and turn to stone. Stone is stone, fleshling. And the flesh is weak."

"Yet you choose a flesh body to inhabit. You could be a woman of stone, or a construction of fire. Both would suit your nature better than this form."

"The Goddesses decree I must take this weak form, for all that I cannot die, Link of the Forrests. Now," she stamped her bare, calloused foot and drew her knives from their sheathes. "Now we will fight and I will see how true your intent is."

Link stared for a moment, then sighed and pulled his Hylian sword from his pack, as well as the blank shield he'd been equipped with. Really, he would have preferred to fight with two scimitars, but he'd only one on him. Setting his pack aside, he readied himself.

Without warning, Pyratae skipped forward with a slash of her leading arm. Link sidestepped rather than parry. He twisted and aimed for her unguarded side, and she leapt backwards, checking her forward movement hastily. She snarled, and leapt at him again, all power, speed and no finesse.

As they fought, Link watched her carefully, and avoided those sharp, glassy knives. Pyratae was taller by about a half a head - and thus about how high Aru should be by now - but his weapon gave him a little more reach than she had. Her stances were weak, her footwork sloppy. She didn't carry her knives like they were a part of her body – in fact, she didn't even seem used to her own body.

He parried her sudden lunge, catching her left knife with his sword, sliding into her guard and letting her right blade slide past his cheek, drawing a shallow cut which he ignored. Link rammed the edge of his shield into her solar plexus, and when she doubled over, he shoved the shield upwards into her jaw with a crack of steel on bone. The mountain spirit stumbled back, gasping, then glared and spat blood onto the bare rock of the mountainside, a livid bruise already forming on her chin. Before she could recover, he dashed forward, twisted his upper body, swung his sword up, and struck her temple with the pommel, pushing onto his toes to add momentum. She dropped like a stone. He backed up a half step, then brought the tip of his sword around to the pulse-point of the woman's neck. But there was no need – there was a deep red and purple dent in her head where he had hit her. Her long neck lolled limply where she sprawled on the ground.

He sheathed his sword and let his shield clatter to the ground as he knelt beside Pyratae. Link felt for her pulse with his shield hand – it was slow, and fading. Soon, there was none. He turned to Doro, aghast.

"She said she couldn't die!" He protested in a hoarse whisper, feeling rather shaky. He'd never killed before. Faced with a real fight, his body had moved by instinct. He hadn't held back, hadn't refrained from using fatal force, even if he'd just been trying to knock Pyratae unconscious.

"**She is the mountain spirit. She cannot die. But her body can. You fought well." **Doro replied, completely unfazed.

"Am I going to get in trouble for this?" Link wondered, and Doro frowned.

"**I do not know. The Gorons have not left the City of Stone for many decades. A champion is needed to defeat the Spirit of the Mountain only when there is trouble for the Gorons. And no champion in memory has ever killed the Pyratae."**

"Great!" Link said hysterically, voicing rising, "So what do we do now? Move along? Because obviously I've defeated her. Do we wait until she shows up again? Because maybe this time she'll bring something more suitable for a battle – like a whopping stone ax or something. Something that relies on power and less on form, maybe?"

"An excellent suggestion." Pyratae said from behind Link, pushing him aside to look at her own dead body. Link gaped. She appeared the same as ever, only this time her dark hair was lit on fire, smoke rising lazily from her body. "You would never have defeated me, had you not forced me into this female body."

"How is that my fault?" The Hylian boy demanded, and she rolled her smoldering eyes.

"A mountain has no gender, fool. I am forced to take the shape of whatever the Champion sees as strongest. How was I to know you fear women most? I have never been a woman before. My balance was off."

"Your balance was fine." Link retorted, staring down at the corpse while the woman herself breathed down his neck. "Being a woman does not make you weak. Never learning to properly fight does. You have no form, and you leave yourself open in close combat. Next time use a bigger weapon." The spirit reached over and pinched his eartip viciously, making him yelp in pain. "Lady, how in the name of Sheol was that called for?" He asked, using the curse word he'd picked up from his time with Kattala.

She cruelly twisted her fingers before releasing him. His hand automatically went for his abused ear.

"That was for killing me." Pyratae said, her lips pursed in disgust. "I don't like you, fleshling, but you slew me all the same, so you may pass to the City of Stone. Now go, before I lose my temper and you go the same as that sack of meat." She waved her hand idly at her discarded corpse, and it burst into a huge gout of flames, and within seconds was completely incinerated.

"Fine, fine." Link said hurriedly, "Doro, let's go. Now." He picked up his shield, crammed it into his pack, slung the pack itself onto his back, and turned tail as quickly as he could towards the city entrance. Doro bowed deeply to Pyratae, her rocky spine making crunching noises.

"**My Lady."** Doro said respectfully, but with a smile.

Pyratae scowled.

"Don't remind me, Cheiftess Doro Hammerhand. Go back to your people, and pick a champion with some sense of honor next time."

Doro nodded, and stomped after Link.

The entrance to the city was not far from the rocky flats where Link had fought the spirit of the mountain. It opened from the side of the mountain like a square, roughly carven mouth. Doro stepped without hesitation into the darkness of the tunnel mouth. Link squared his shoulders, lit his light stone ring, and followed after her.

"So where is everyone?" Link asked as they walked deeper into the warmth of the mountain. "I wasn't expecting any greeting parties or anything because of the fact that everyone's starving, but where are the guards? Or the gates? I mean, really, anyone could just walk right in and do whatever they want."

"**Everyone who enters must first face the Pyratae**.**"** Doro replied simply.

"I see." Link said, his tone implying that that was not exactly a comforting thought.

"**The Gate is ahead. It needs no guard." **The Goron woman said, blue eyes glowing at her companion's insolence. They came to a dead end, a rough but meticulous design carved into the wall. In the center of a pattern of flames, fisted hands, and creatures that greatly resembled a cross between a very fat dragon and a clawed ox, there was a large indentation shaped like an open hand. Doro pressed her own hand into the shallow hole, and pushed. There was a reverberating shudder that passed through the tunnel, and the designs on the wall abruptly glowed a sullen red. Doro pressed further, then turned her thick wrist slowly, the pattern moving with her hand. She turned the glowing lines until the flames in the pattern aligned with the carved flame symbols that lined the tunnel, then pulled back.

Silently, a line appeared to split the wall, then another lit up lengthwise. More and more bright lines divided the carved wall. With a sound like the shiver of tiny bells, it shattered into dust, revealing more tunnel, this time lit by the same glowing symbols that had appeared on the 'gate'. Link coughed, then followed Doro over the threshold of the gate, which shimmered back into existence as soon as he passed through.

The passageway finally opened into a massive hall, the walls sleek and level, and decorated in the same motif of flames and closed fists. The hall was empty of any Gorons, real fires flickering atop the narrow pillars that rose from either side of the cavernous room. Down the center of the hall was a great stone table. A trough was carved into the middle of the table, fed by many open pipes that descended gracefully from the ceiling. At the very end of the hall stood two simple thrones of equal height.

One of the thrones was occupied by a bulky Goron with stone formations clinging to his chin. Doro smiled deeply, revealing stony gums and lengthening her stride. Link scurried to keep up with his companion. As they approached, the male Goron raised his hands in greeting to Doro.

"**Chieftess and wife." **He said, his voice even deeper than Doro's rumble.

"**Husband. Darunia." **Doro replied, taking his hands with her own. He stood and helped her into the empty throne, which she settled into with long ease. Now that Link could see them together, he could see that Darunia's features were heavier and more deeply carven, his eyes burning bright white-yellow rather than Doro's white-blue.

"**So you are back. And you have brought the man our Sworn Brother sent us."**

"**I have. This is Link Forrester, who is very nearly a man, and was sent not by the Hylian King but his daughter. Link Forrester fought the Pyratae and slew its form."**

Hearing, this, Darunia turned a scrutinizing gaze on the Hylian boy.

"**A great feat. What news from the Hylian lands, Doro?"**

"**In the mountain city of Climbtown, Hylians have the industry to melt iron and stone. Our people will not starve. In exchange for fine crystals and rare metals, they will happily provide for us all we need."**

"**No need now, Wife. The Firemouth has woken as abruptly as it fell to sleep."**

"**News indeed." ** Doro said with great approval. **"There will be great rejoicing when the City of Stone awakes."**

"**The grown ones never went dormant, only the children. So all of this cycle has not been lost."**

"**Good. Our child will know us again, in time."**

"**Yes, Naro will." **Darunia's gaze slid to Link. **"Link Forrester. I am Darunia Firefist! Shaman, once Hero of the Gorons, and husband to the Chieftess. We of the Goron people owe a debt to you. If not for waking the Firemouth, then for accompanying Chieftess Doro Hammerhand across the wastes and back to us."**

"**He did more than that, o Beloved Darunia." **Doro said warmly, blue eyes flaring. **"I was dying in Climbtown and Link Forrester thought to melt metal and stone to revive me from starvation. I would not have returned if not for him. For his feats we will host him here in the City of Stone for a fortnight."**

"**We will mark him a Sworn Brother, for what he has done."**

"That isn't necessary." Link said, "I'll just be happy to visit for a bit, then get my blood sacrifice as payment, and I'll be on my way back."

"**Why would you not wish to be sworn? Those who are sworn together will do any task for the other. They become allies."**

Link frowned, thinking fast. This was a chance to earn allies for his side, a whole race of wickedly strong rock-people. Gorons didn't need to eat for months at a time when in peak condition. Moreover, they ate rock, not precious edibles.

"Yeah. All right." He said after a long moment, "Let's do it."

"**I am pleased with that." **Darunia said with a slow smile.** "We will mark the Brotherhood in seven days. Until then, feast with us!"**

"**We will let my husband gather the grown ones." **Doro told Link. **"I have something to show you. Come."**

"Okay." He agreed easily, dropping his pack onto the floor beside the thrones, and followed her out of one of the many open doorways in the hall. The rock passageway sloped gently downward, and opened into a wide stairway, the steps smooth and worn down in the middle. They ascended the stairs silently, winding up several floors, then turned down another hallway, which led to a chamber with glowing runes carved into the wall, much as they appeared throughout the city.

In the corner of the room was a Goron-shaped depression, and tucked into a boulder-ball was a particularly small Goron.

"**My child Naro." **Doro said, gesturing to the child.** "You have saved their life."**

"Is Naro a boy or a girl?" Link wanted to know.

"**Neither, and both. Gorons do not choose a gender until they reach the choosing age. Once they choose, the child will be physically mature within a decade. Naro preferred femininity the last cycle. We shall see if they wish to become female this cycle around."**

"Wait – why would preference change? What's different now?"

"**When we sleep with the mountain, we forget our life before. When we awake, we have no memory of life before."**

"Why? That's awful!"

"**It has always been this way. Your care is appreciated. We do not lose our knowledge, only our memories, so be consoled."**

"What do you mean, Doro?"

"**Observe."** Doro stepped over to the wall, and pressed her hand to the symbol of a smoking volcano that glowed on the wall. The glowing _lines_ flared, and were replaced by rows upon rows of blocky script, detailing Naro's many lives between cycles. **"Before we sleep, we record the events of the cycle, so we know who we were before. A new chieftain is selected every cycle. Marriages end at the close of each cycle, but parental relationships do not. I am a proud woman to be able to say I have married and remarried Darunia every cycle. I have been many things – a miner, a Dodongo driver, an artisan, a teacher, a warrior, and now, in this cycle, Chieftess of my people."**

"Wow." Link replied, digging a hand into his cap to scratch the crown of his head. "So you can be anything."

"**Indeed. Come with me now – the infants will awake in the morning. Now is the time for the feast."**

"Okay. I'll have to provide my own food, won't I?"

"**Yes."**

"Very well. Lead the way." Doro nodded, and they left Naro's room to return to the great hall. Link stared at the multitude of Gorons gathered in the hall's great table. There were at least two or three hundred of them, by his estimation. Impressive, one creature of rock after another. Not as impressive as the Food Court back in the Fortress, which could seat a thousand women and girls at once, but impressive nonetheless.

Doro returned to her seat at the head of the stone table, Darunia at her right. Link was allowed to sit at the right of Darunia, for a bulky male Goron with arms like slabs of marble had the right to sit next to Doro. Doro introduced the giant male as Garoni, her second-in command.

When Doro raised her hands above her head, the entire hall went still and silent.

"**My people," **She began, **"A disaster has been averted. The Firemouth, which went to sleep against the cycle, has reawoken. For this we give thanks to the Goddess Din, and the great Fire Spirit who sends blessed magma from the deeps of Vanity. Hail to them."**

"**Hail!"** The Gorons chorused, hands raised in praise.

"**We thank the Hylian champion Link Forrester for returning the Chieftess to her people." ** Darunia said, **"Praise to him."**

"**Praise!"**

"**Bless the lava we will eat tonight, to fill our empty bellies and restore our infants to a new cycle. For this we are grateful! For this we give thanks!"**

"**Turners, begin your labor, that we might feast." **Doro ordered, and with a groan, lava slowly crept down the open pipes near the ceiling, to flow into the great trough in the middle of the stone table. The Gorons cheered, and began to scoop up the molten rock with their hands, raising the lava to their mouths.

Watching the rock-beings feast, Link tucked into his own meal of fruitcake and jerky, keeping a safe distance from the heat of the trough.

The feasting lasted for hours, until finally the lava ceased to pour, and with full stomachs, the Gorons returned to their sleeping chambers. Link was drooping with exhaustion when Darunia finally stood from his throne.

"**Come, Hylian boy. You are weary from your travels, and from the feast. I will show you your quarters."** The Goron man gestured, and Link obediently stood, gathering up his things.

He was shown to a small room, with a deep impression bed meant for a Goron. Instead of sleeping there, Link spread out his bedroll out on the stone floor next to one of the walls.

"**May you have a good night, Link Forrester." **Darunia said, **"I will take you around the City of Stone in the morning. Tomorrow evening there will be another feast. Then you will hear the great tales of our people."**

"Thank you, Darunia Firefist." Link said, stretching with a yawn. "Have a good night, and give my regards to Doro."

Darunia nodded his great head.

"**I will. Good slumber to you."**

With that said, the male left Link to his sleep.

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1. Doro being the Chieftess of the Gorons, and married to Darunia? Yeah, it surprised me too.

2. Pyratae was supposed to live too, but Link had other ideas. Is it sort of bad when you think of your characters as tools, but then they start doing things on their own? Newsflash: there will be consequences for Link's easy victory.

3. I got quite the reaction from last chapter. Yes, Anasi can break the fourth wall. Yes, the different tone is intended. He's not supposed to be a comfortable, fitting-in kind of character. He is from Earth, as are the Hundred, and while Vanity was once fairly modern, most of it has since slipped into more medieval methods. Anasi has refused to change with the times.

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As ever, reviews are greatly appreciated.


	42. In the Mountain Deep

Hello again everyone. It's really interesting how this story is growing - almost in an organic fashion, really. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

As of 1-17-2011, there are 494 reviews, 199 story alerts, 207 favs, and 64,595 hits.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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Chapter Forty-One: In the Mountain Deep

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**

The morning came far too early for Kattala's tastes. Eyes bleary, she sat on her stool, hunched over her workbench. What to do? Absently she rolled two wax-covered balls around in her little hands. They belonged to Link, she was sure of it – for she had found them in the room he had occupied during his stay in the Ferres manor.

What were they? She continued to wonder, but did her best to contain her curiosity. Surely they weren't that important.

Link probably wouldn't even miss them, whatever they were.

* * *

The next day after Doro's homecoming, Link allowed himself to sleep deep and late into the afternoon. The City of Stone was quite different from what he had expected – he'd expected a roughly hewn series of caves, maybe altered lava tubes. Instead, the halls and chambers were flawlessly carved, every corner a perfect ninety degree angle, the stair steps utterly level, if made wider and steeper to suit the Gorons' larger stride. The hall floors were slightly rough, to improve traction, but other than that one exception, the rock surfaces were polished to a high shine, crystals in the granite and basalt glowing sullenly in the cherry red _linelight_ that served for both lamps and decoration in the City.

Link had expected the corridors of the city to be cool and drafty. Instead the air was just shy of stifling, the gentle breezes flavored with the smell of raw rock and ash. Save for the smell, it reminded Link very much of the heat of the desert in midsummer. He was very happy to take up wearing desert garb again - though he left off the turban for there was no sun to be burnt by. There was also plenty of water to be had, warm but fresh and with a sharp mineral taste. Desert-raised, Link had a few gallons worth of water stored away in his seemingly bottomless pack which he kept filled at all times. It was nice not to need to resort to such measures.

With Doro taking command of her people once more, she had little time for her traveling companion, as there were infants to wake, parents to be reassured, lava flows to be redirected, mining to return to, new chronicles to be drawn up for the new volcanic cycle, exports to be moved down to Climbtown. She was also paving the way through the Goron Council for Link to be made a Sworn Brother, as well as finding the approval to give a willing sacrifice of blood. Strangely, apparently it would ease things better if Link were not present for such discussions, so Darunia had taken it upon himself to show Link around the City and teach the Hylian boy more about the Gorons.

The lavaworks were too hot for Link's fleshly body to stand, so Darunia took the boy over to a blank wall, and with a few finger strokes, drew a glowing and precise _line_ diagram of the works, of the mechanism that sucked lava out of a magma chamber some two hundred feet below the city, drew the molten rock along pipes that kept the viscous liquid scalding hot, into Goron-made reservoirs that served in the same fashion, until it was released into the lava trough in the Feasting Hall.

"But what powers the mechanisms?" Link wanted to know, "There has to be something. Heat? Steam?"

"**Dodongos."** Darunia replied. **"They serve as creatures of labor, though the smaller varieties we keep as pets."**

"Can I see one?"

"**I will show you one of the pet Dodongos. Their flame is not as potent, and are less prone to biting. Even thought the teeth of the working varieties cannot penetrate nor bruise Goron rock-flesh, they would certainly cripple or kill you."** Here Darunia paused to think. **"Ora Widemouth has a pet, kept in his chambers. He had not yet been called to work the trough lines. We shall approach him."**

"All right."

Darunia led Link down seven flights of stairs, across a stone bridge over a chasm, before climbing two more flights to Ora's chambers. There the Goron male, who had been avidly perusing the script of _lines_ on the wall, eagerly invited Link and Darunia.

"**High Shaman! Champion of the People! You are welcome here, but why visit at such an hour?"**

"**Link Forrester has a wish to see a Dodongo. You keep one as a pet, and are free from labor at this hour. Also, Lith is known to be well behaved."**

Ora smiled at that.

"**Yes, she is. Very well. I am pleased with that."** He turned and called to a small kennel made of stone in the corner. **"Lith! Come!"** Ora slapped two slablike hands together, and a little head, crowned with gold and green scales, peered out from the door of the kennel. It clicked inquisitively, cocking its head to one side, eyeing Link and Darunia with beady purple eyes. **"Come, Lith. Good girl. Come here."** Violet eyes glittering with trust, she stepped out of the enclosure slowly. She was a lovely lizard, about two and a half feet high at the shoulder, and about five feet long from long angular nose to ridged tail tip. She had two legs – for Link didn't count the frail vestigial hind limbs that protruded from either side of her finely muscled tail. Unlike a lizard, when she clicked again, he could see her tongue was not forked, but rough like a cat's.

Lith, keeping an eye on the two strangers, wiggled her way over to her master, who bent to caress her.

"**Good girl, Lith."** Ora said, and Lith gave a shiver of delight, rearing up on her tail to nuzzle the Goron man's knee, which she just barely reached. **"Link Forrester. You may touch her now. She enjoys scratching on the chin and the top of her muzzle. Watch for the burps. They cause fire to come from her mouth."** Then, his tone changed from deferential to patronizing. Fortunately, it was aimed at his pet. **"Lith. No flame. No flame, Lith."**

Link reached out slowly, letting Lith sniff his hand to learn his scent. When she seemed to accept it, he gently rubbed her chin. Her eyes closed in delight, so he brought his fingernails into play. Lith gave a slow croon, tail twitching up and down, and leaned into his touch. He was so charmed by the creature's pleased attentions, that when his fingers began to tire, he turned his hand to rub her chin with the back of his hand. He rubbed a little too far back on her throat, and with a look of surprise, Lith coughed. Warned, he pulled away, but not fast enough to escape the ball of flame she burped out.

The fire engulfed his right hand, searing hot.

His dominant hand, damn it!

"Din's eye!" He cursed, flinching away from the heat, snatching his burnt hand to his chest and cradling it there, then flinching again from the texture of his shirt against the burn. In a flash, Ora reached into the fire and closed Lith's snout, stemming the flame and letting it pour from her nostrils, safely away from Link. Darunia drew Link away from the pet Dodongo.

"**Clearly I misjudged what will harm the flesh of a fleshling."** The shaman said, as Ora shut Lith away in her kennel. **"Hold out your hands. Both of them."**

"What-"

"**Now, Link Forrester."**

Link obeyed, and Darunia examined the unburned hand, the cupped his great hands about a foot away from the burnt hand, white-gold eyes shining brightly from those deep eye sockets. At first nothing happened, but then frost gathered on the burn, the cold numbing the raw, fiery pain down to an unpleasant tingle.

"I thought Gorons could only use fire magic?" Link said weakly, eying the layers of blue and silver frost on his hand.

"**No. We practice heat magic. Cold is merely the absence of the vibrations which cause heat. I simply brought the vibrations of your burn to the same temperature as your other hand. The air around it will be cold with frost for several hours."**

"How do you know all this?" Link wanted to know, "I mean, everything about flesh wounds. Do Gorons even burn at all?"

"**They do not. In one of my past cycles, I was a merchant exporting Goron goods. In my travels I learned much of the ways of fleshlings, and I wrote my discoveries on a stone tablet with **_**lines**_**. I do not remember it, of course. But I have the knowledge nonetheless."**

Link thought that over, his hand twinging with every throb of his heartbeat. He did his best not to whimper.

"I see." Was all he said.

"**Link Forrester,"** Ora said glumly, **"Please forgive Lith. I did not know. Honored Shaman Darunia, do not snuff out her life. I did not know."**

"**I did not know either, Ora Widemouth. Lith is forgiven, for I also did not know the exact weaknesses of Hylian flesh, for all my travels amongst them, many cycles ago. It is a pity, but Lith does not deserve death."** Darunia decreed, a slablike hand resting lightly on Link's shoulder, and Ora bowed deeply.

"**Thank you, Darunia Firefist." **

"**I will take Link Forrester back to his chamber, that he might heal himself. Come, Link Forrester."**

Link nodded, and followed Darunia through the stone corridors to his room. There, he opened his pack one-handed, his hurt hand cradled close to his chest. He pulled out the healing kit, and looked around for something that might help.

His heart sunk when he found that the two amber fruit, that miraculous cure all, were gone.

Where had they gone? He was no medical expert – he didn't know how bad his hand was injured, though he knew it was a good thing that it hurt this much, and wasn't so badly burnt he couldn't feel it.

Once he calmed himself down, he cleaned the wound, delicately smeared aloe salve on the burnt bits, then gently, painfully bandaged his hand. Once that was done, the frost reappeared, this time on the layers of linen cloth. Link took a long draught out of a pain-killing potion, then ate a little capsule that was supposed to prevent infection and which was supposed to last for about a week. He managed to get everything packed away, with one hand, still trying to delude himself over what this would mean for the mission he had to complete.

He had just made a sling out of a few strips of bandaging when a thought occurred to him.

What if he didn't get healed fast enough? What if the wounds scarred badly, and he lost full mobility in his fingers? Worse – what if it got infected and something had to be cut off? Fingers? The whole hand? He couldn't play an ocarina with one hand. He could use a sword fair enough with his left hand, but couldn't fight as well, not crippled. He'd have to learn how to write left-handed. What, exactly, was he-

Link shuddered as the pain potion's effects finally kicked in, not so much an absence of pain so much as a sensation of hitting a very large, very wet, very blue wall of sticky numbness. He wasn't sure how something could _feel_ blue, but it felt that way nonetheless.

The Hylian boy looked up at Darunia from his seat on the floor, suddenly feeling very tired, despite the fact that his timepiece only read around half past fourteen in the morning.

"I never really…" Link began, then thought better. "Never mind."

"**Please explain."** Darunia said, looking nonplussed.

"It's nothing, I'm just tired." He dismissed, then added in a very small voice, "Just – please tell me about the cycle where you were Hero of the Gorons? I could use the distraction."

"**Very well. It was many, many cycles ago, in the days when most fleshlings lived in the mountains…"

* * *

**

Long was that cycle, when the mountain was at its most active, when only the Gorons dared live on the slopes of the Firemouth. In those days the Dodongos had not been domesticated. They were our only enemy, for their fire could harm even people of rock, and upon their dying breaths they rent earth and burst apart like a stoppered mountain passage. They were mindless, and acted as one, one mind and many, many bodies. We did not know why they attacked us, only that they did, and that therefore we had to kill them first.

The Gorons fought long against those creatures, despite our keen minds, strong arms, and rock bodies, for the Dodongos bred and reached full growth faster than our people did. Behind the masses of those creatures of scale and fire dwelt the foul, cunning mind of the constantly gravid Dodongo Queen, the source of the monstrous hive-mind.

I was young then, not even a century old, and just chosen my manhood two decades before. I and my friends were foolish and foolhardy, as boys are at that age. We knew the solution to the war between us and the Dodongos – the Queen had to be killed. Only then would the tide of our enemy be stemmed.

We gathered our wits and our courage, and stole down the mountain into the cavern where the Queen resided. The monsters sensed us and charged towards us, spewing fire, and we ran. My fellows were not swift enough to outpace them, and fell to the flames.

I alone found my way to the dark of a crevice in that great series of caves, and waited until the Dodongos had calmed. I waited until hunger gnawed at my belly, and then I tried to escape the hell of those winding caverns. But I did not find the way out. Instead I came across the Queen herself – a bloated, scaly behemoth. Seeing my chance, I blocked the exits with rubble, and turned the debris to molten rock, sealing the ways out. The Dodongos who were left were servants, not warriors, and the Queen had just ended her latest cycle of egg laying – she would not spawn any more until the seasons changed – and the eggs had long since been taken out of the Queen's chamber.

I slew the servants, and then turned to the Queen. She could do nothing but lie there, impotent, so I hardened my heart and gouged out her eyes. I was about to dig through the empty sockets to her brain when a hot force dragged me away.

_Stop,_ said a woman's voice like searing ash and the hiss of fire. _You are both my creations, the very heart of both, and I would not have you destroy one or the other so thoughtlessly._

I looked up. She was garbed in the guise of a fleshling, her skin black as basalt, her coarse hair short and red as jasper, her eyes a burning brand. But I saw through to the inner flame of her. She was the mother of my race, the Fire Spirit. The inner fire from which all volcanoes burn.

What we said then was lost to me – I know only what was recorded in _lines_. I bargained with the Fire Spirit. She wished for the Gorons and the Dodongos to maintain a kind of balance, but instead there was no balance but mutual slaughter. I proposed a new balance – if the Dodongos would work in our mines, we would feed, house, and cosset them.

She did not like this, until I said that there was no balance to maintain – for the Dodongos spent more time murdering the people of stone than they did hunting to feed themselves. Eventually, the Fire Spirit saw the Goron's side, for the mind of the Dodongo Queen was less than even a Goron child might possess.

The Fire Spirit reached out and touched the blind Queen's snout, and the behemoth shrank and was healed.

_All Dodongos will obey the Gorons now, but only if your people uphold your end of the agreement._ She commanded.

I asked her for her blessing, as was customarily given to one fortunate enough to meet her. But she said I had it already, and abandoned her mortal guise to return to the lower realms, the great molten chamber that is the heart of Vanity.

And so I returned to the City of Stone, and so the Dodongos were tamed.

* * *

"**That is the story of what I wrote down in **_**lines**_**, many cycles ago. It is a simple story. What say you, Link Forrester? Link Forrester? You, Hylian boy? Wake up, fleshling! Oh. This is not good. Fire Spirit, aid me."

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**1. In the City of Stone, _lines_ serve as illumination, decoration, and archive. The _lines _can be controlled by Gorons to draw, write, and read information stored within the _line_ system in the City. Any large blank surface can be used to bring up _lines_ and serve as an interface for the system.

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We are almost at 500 reviews! When I started this I was only hoping for about 100. How the times have changed!


	43. Crushed

Hello again. This story has hit 500 reviews! I'm just staggered, its really awesome. Big chapter this week.

As of 1-24-2011, this story has 508 reviews, 205 favs, 209 story alerts, and 66,341 hits!

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

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**Chapter Forty-Two: Crushed**

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The first thing Link registered, was pain and the absence of blue, which probably meant the pain potion had worn off. Probably.

The next was great hands made of rock shaking him awake.

"**Link Forrester. Awake. We believe we have the solution to your pains."**

"What?" Link said, struggling to clear his head from the unpleasant burning sensation in his hand. Darunia's coarse palm cupped his back and helped him sit up.

"**During the ritual to join Sworn Brothers, a mark is applied. Once you are marked you will gain resistance to fire, and immunity to the toxic gases which come from below. Fleshlings who are marked cannot be burned by heat, nor acid, nor radiation. It has not been done before – surely your burns will be healed as well."**

"Actually, I don't care." Link said weakly, doing his best not to whimper in pain, "I just need that blood sacrifice, and I'll be happy to go."

"**Now that we know the weakness of Hylian flesh, it is not a good plan. Goron blood is molten. You would not be able to handle it, even if you could find a vessel for it."**

"Wait – hey, I have one. In my pack." Link lurched to his knees, and dragged his pack over to his bedroll. It took him a moment to realize that he'd last been in Ora's quarters, not in his borrowed chamber halfway across the city. He reached into his pack with his good hand and found one of the unbreakable, indestructible flasks Dinah had created for him.

He held it up to Darunia. "Will this do? Once the blood is in, I'll apply a time-seal so it doesn't burn me or my things."

"**Perhaps." **Darunia allowed. **"I insist on your marking. If you can, we will go to the High Chamber now. They are ready for you now."**

"Okay, fine. Let's go." Link let Darunia help to his feet, putting his arm back in its sling. He followed the Goron Shaman down the corridors to a large chamber connected to the Feasting Hall. The room was lined with a circle of thirteen seats - two high seats, and eleven lower ones, which were occupied by older Gorons, their joints eroded, the males with stalactites on their chins. Not all of them looked pleased to see Link there.

Doro sat in one of the high seats, and Darunia took the other after seating Link on a stone stool in the center of the circle.

"**Today we brand this Hylian a Sworn Brother of the Goron people, for answering when the call was given." **Darunia said, his voice a low rumble. **"For reviving the Chieftess when she was near death, for escorting her back to her people. For volunteering his efforts to awaken the mountain. For bravely facing the Pyratae in battle and emerging the victor. For forgiving a lapse in our judgment when he was injured by Dodongo flame. For all this, we answer with allegiance. The vote was cast – ten councilors in approval, three in disfavor. Further, we shall repay Link Forrester's injury with a willing blood sacrifice. Ora Widemouth, enter."**

Ora nervously entered the council circle, a blade made of some kind of clear crystal in one hand.

"**For the attack of my pet, I will repay you with blood, drawn by this blade of diamond." **He said, raising the blade. **"Where is the flask?"**

Link offered it to Ora, who opened it carefully, then sawed a long slash across the meat of his forearm. Glowing blood welled up, thick and viscous like lava. Ora gathered up a blob of it with the tip of the knife and deposited it Link's jar. Link reached out with his right hand, then thought better of it, and cupped his left hand close to the flask without actually touching it. He drew deep, and whistled a long series of notes to time-seal the jar. When he gingerly touched his littlest finger to the glass container, he found it was cool to the touch. Ora's wound had already crusted over and ceased to glow.

"Thank you, Ora. My journey here is complete now." Link said, taking the jar and slipping it into his pocket, and Ora bowed, then fled the council room.

"**It is not over yet." **Doro said imperiously, **"Bring forth the brand, Shaman of the Goron people."**

Darunia stood from his seat, taking up a small metal seal. It's face was triangular, in relief there was a symbol shaped like a curled fist, a fist lit with flame.

"**With this mark, you will be bound to the Goron people, and the People will be bound likewise to you. This mark will pass on the strength of rock and flame. You will touch fire but not be burned. You will touch rock but not be crushed. You may call for assistance, and we will answer in your time of need. When the brand is applied, you will sleep like a dormant volcano for four days, and awake the fifth day changed in nature, turned towards the nature of fire. Will you take the mark of the Gorons, Link Forrester?"**

"I will." Link said, "But if my burns aren't better by the second day, could someone take me down to Climbtown? In Hylians, these kinds of wounds might lose me my hand if it isn't treated properly by a healer."

"**I will take you there myself, Link Forrester." **Darunia said, ignoring the scowls of two council members. **"Regardless of your health, the mountain has reawoken, we need no longer fear starvation or journeys away from the city, now that we can eat our fill."**

"Thank you. I promise to answer the call to arms whenever it comes, and answer gladly." This seemed to mollify the reluctant councilors.

"**Good." **Darunia touched the seal with a fingertip, and it went from grey-black to red-hot. **"Bare the shoulder of your dominant arm, please."** Link obeyed, rolling up the short sleeve of his shirt and avoiding his bandaged hand. "**It will be painful, but there will be no damage from the heat. I am sure of this."**

"A-all right." Link said, closing his eyes as the brand descended. It touched his skin, and pain flowered at the point it seared onto his shoulder. Sweat broke out across his brow, trickled down his back. He sucked in a deep breath, suddenly breathless as the brand pulled away but the pain did not. It sunk deep, beyond the layers of his skin, into blood and bone, tendrils of pain finding root and spreading down his arm, into his chest and down, molten hot in his veins. "You didn't… you didn't say-" He managed, legs going wobbly underneath him, so he locked his knees to stay upright.

"**The pain will spread throughout. We are rewriting the nature of your flesh. Next will come sleep."**

"No it won't!" Link said flippantly, and blacked out.

* * *

On the second day, the Dodongo veterinarian came to see Link's wounds. He used a pair of small tweezers to gently pull the bandaging away from Link's hand. It stuck to the wound, then reluctantly peeled off. The burns were livid red and white, greenish serum weeping from the raw edges. Link muttered something in his sleep, stirring fitfully but not waking.

The veterinarian glared at Darunia.

"**He caught flame-rot before he was Sworn. The mark will not cure him. It will not heal well."**

"**Surely Hylians cannot catch Dodongo maladies!"**

"**Flesh is flesh! Flame-rot is borne by tiny creatures that flourish where there is both water, heat, and toxic gas."**

"**Then the medicine for flame-rot will cure him."**

"**With every respect, Shaman Darunia, but Hylians are weaker than Dodongos. Dodongo medicine is strong even for those pack animals. I do not think Hylians can stand such strong acids."**

"**Then what do you recommend, Healer Sar?"**

"**Get him off the mountain, to a fleshling doctor. Hylians are lowland and valley creatures. We have seen the brand take, but we cannot assume it has helped. Perhaps he is even weaker now."**

"**Ice Spirit take that Dodongo!" **Darunia grumbled, **"How can we accept the maiming of our own Sworn Brother?"**

Goron Healer Sar shrugged rocky shoulders.

"**Return him to his people. Pay the healer's fee. Keep our people's honor."**

"**Indeed. I promised Link Forrester I would bring him to the settlement called Climbtown."**

Sar nodded, carefully rewrapping the used bandage around Link's hand.

"**Very good, Shaman Darunia. I have seen to him, and can do no more. Good day to you."**

"**Yes. You may go."** Darunia said in dismissal, and Sar left. Once he was alone, Darunia gathered the unconscious Link into his arms, and picked up the bottomless pack. He squared his shoulders, and headed for the exit of the City of Stone.

He only stopped to tell Doro he was leaving to return their Champion and newly Sworn Brother to his own people. Doro agreed, and passed her husband a handful of jewels to pay for the journey.

* * *

The Pyratae appeared before Darunia could set foot on the Needle Arch.

"Back so soon, Darunia Firefist?" It asked, cocking a bony head, spikes of little stalagmites like needles pointing every which way instead of hair. "Surely your Champion should be enjoying the hospitality of the Gorons?" Its bulging, over-sized black and red eyes focused on the boy's pale face where he rested it in the crook of Darunia's arm. "Ahhhh." The Pyratae said with relish, "He is mortally wounded. How lovely." It licked grey lips with a black tongue.

"**Can you do anything for him, O Pyratae?"**

"Why would I want to do anything for that little whelp?" It asked in the gravely voice of its true form, idly examining its own skeletal, charcoal-hued hands. "That dishonorable fleshling forced me into a weak female body and humiliated me. If anything I should further his path to death. But no-" And here the Pyratae grimaced, gnashing crooked teeth in distaste, "By defeating me he earned a boon, and was not entirely disrespectful afterwards. So I will abstain from revenge. You had best move on with all haste, Darunia Firefist, lest the fleshling child perish on your watch. He won't last longer than a fortnight at this rate. Get him off my slopes, for I despise mortals of flesh. I had forgotten how much, until _he_ came trespassing. Now go."

Darunia nodded, and moved on.

* * *

The tektites were not a problem. Fire took care of them rather easily.

Neither was the Eater Ram, despite the fact that it all but tried to – literally – climb Darunia to get a bite of Link. A good kick sent it tumbling down the steep slope. The Goron Shaman didn't take a second look as he passed its twitching, broken body.

Doro, his wife, should have been able to make this journey easily, but she had been all but dead of starvation, melted iron or not. These creatures were nothing to a healthy Goron. Only Dodongos came close to matching their strength, and those lizards had long been domesticated.

He moved on, intent on reaching Climbtown before the third day was over.

* * *

The Kakariko market was busy that afternoon.

Kattala paid the herb merchant his due for the sage and rosemary in her shopping basket. Turning, she sniffed the air, drawing deep, whistling breaths in through her shattered nose, and eyed the looming bulk of Death Mountain.

"Smoke rises from the mountain once more." She commented to the servant who was chaperoning her excursion to the market.

"So it does, my lady." The servant, Ganiel, replied. Kattala sighed, settling the handle of the basket into the crook of her arm, other hand stroking the skeins of undyed linen thread that sat under the dye packets of woad, green-all, goldenyield, and scarlet's kiss.

In the time Link had been gone, she had mastered enchanted bracelets, and was moving onto to magic cloaks. Still, she felt like slacking a little in her studies, and pursuing a more personal project.

Maybe it was time to weave a liar's tunic. She'd experimented with magicking fabric before – enchanting cloth to shield better than plate armor, and some such – but only with small pieces of it.

Once all her shopping was done, she turned around and headed home, Ganiel trailing behind her.

She realized something was up as soon as she stepping into the house. Servants were running around like agitated ants. Kattala reached out and snagged the sleeve of the youngest scullery maid.

"Harina, what's happened as could put everyone in such a tizzy?" She asked, and the maid smoothed down her apron.

"It's Master Link Forrester, Miss Katerin." Harina said breathlessly, "Returned from the mountain. There's a Goron with him, and the lad is deathly ill. Much worse than his last visit, or so I heard."

Kattala blinked in surprise, then rallied.

"Has a healer been sent for?" She queried urgently, and nodded when the older girl bobbed her head in an affirmative. "Good. Then get all the others to calm down – tell them I was the one as said so – we don't need to lose our heads right now, and there's work to be done no matter how ill he is."

"Yes, milady." Harina agreed, color rushing to her face.

"Where is he in the house, please?"

"In the guest room, same as last visit."

"I see. Well. Thank you, Harina. You go on, now." Dismissed, Harina scurried down the hall. Kattala took in a deep breath, letting Ganiel pass her by, and went to put her things away in her workshop.

So Link was back already. So much for surprising him with some new trick she'd learned! She'd have to send word to Dampe that she wouldn't be coming by the day after next. Her friends would be disappointed, but they'd understand once she'd talked to them. Wasn't like they'd be going anywhere, after all.

The cabinet shelves restocked, she locked her workroom and darted up the stairs to the guest room.

Master Tangle was there, as was Doctor Horald, from just a terrace level below the Ferres household. Link was sprawled limply on the bed, his face pale and sweaty, his right arm elevated on a pillow. His hand was swollen, red and gray-green and faintly oozing. A breeze from the open window across the room reached Kattala, and if she had a normal nose, she would have wrinkled it in revulsion.

"_What_ is that _smell_?" She demanded, heart in her throat, "Is that rot? 'Cause I've smelled that before, and he's not near dead yet – I won't let him be - "

"Katerin!" Master Tangle said sharply, and Kattala snapped her mouth shut before she could say more. "Thank you, Dearie, much better. You needn't worry – his fever's broken, thanks to the good doctor here."

"What happened?" She asked, and Doctor Horald cleared his throat nervously, lips pinched tight.

"His hand was very badly burnt – and while in the mountains he became infected with what that… that Goron creature calls 'flame-rot'. Now that he's been seen to, we're certain he will survive. He should regain consciousness in a day if the treatment takes hold properly. But his hand – while it won't be amputated, fortunately – will never fully heal, I'm afraid."

Kattala sat down very hard in the nearest chair. She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out very slowly.

"How bad, Doctor?" She wondered warily.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"Will it stop oozing, soon? Will he always be in pain? He'll keep all his fingers?" She fired off the questions in rapid succession, voice rising with each item. "Will the fingers close all the way? How much weaker will his grip be?"

The Doctor reeled back a tad from her verbal assault.

"I believe he will keep his digits, yes. The infection should go away, but there will likely be some lingering pain. The mobility of his hand will depend on whether he exercises them during the healing process, but I doubt he will ever be as good as new. From my diagnostic spells, it is clear he took some herb pills to prevent infection – but they appear to be nothing more than dried parsley, rather than lumpweed or veinwort, and not effective in any way. Whoever sold those to him was clearly a fraud and a cheat."

"Oh." She said, shut her mouth, and said nothing more for a long time, as the Doctor went back to his work unmolested.

* * *

Later, she went to the stables, where the Goron who'd saved Link was staying. The man - judging by the rocky growths on his chin – was nearly nine feet tall, far larger than any Colossal she'd ever seen, and was so heavy he couldn't enter the manor for fear he'd crack the tile or floorboards.

She found him curled into a ball in an empty stall near the back, greatly resembling a boulder.

Kattala thought about how to go about doing this for a moment, then reached out and knocked politely on the Goron's curled back.

"'Scuse me." She said, raising her voice a little. The stony hide twitched once, then the Goron sat up.

"**Yes?" ** He asked in a low, grating rumble. It was a very alien sounding voice, very inhuman, but she was used to non-human voices, like the Aerials, who could only communicate through song, or Changelings, whose voices sounded like the animals they could become.

"I wanted to thank you, for carrying Link all this way. If you hadn't he'd probably be dead."

The Goron male frowned.

"**Link Forrester is the Sworn Brother of the Gorons. Why would we not wish to save him?"**

"Well there are those as just do what's easy. I can see your people have their honor, though."

"**We do."**

"I'm ah, Katerin Ferres. Nice to meet you." She smoothed her dress front hastily, then curtseyed slightly. The Goron bowed back.

"**I am Darunia Firefist, Shaman of the Gorons. It is good to see Link Forrester has allies amongst his own race."**

Kattala smiled crookedly, tucking a lock of hair behind her round little ear.

"Yeah, me too. Did you stop in Climbtown on the way back? I saw Deste is in his stall on the way in, see."

"**Yes, I walked down to that settlement. There are no healers there beyond a hedgewitch. She told me she did not know enough. So I came further, to this city, which is called Kakariko."**

"I can't imagine as Deste would be happy to be near such an unusual person. How'd he get here?"

"**A Hylian man who deals with horses was paid to ride him down. He has been well paid."**

"That's good, I think. It will save time for Link, all's better. Well, did you want to be getting back to sleep, or might you bend my ear for a bit and tell me what your people are like? What kind of magic do they use? I've a hunger to know, now."

"**It is pleasing to find a Hylian who cares for learning the ways of others. Very well. I shall inform you. We Gorons use heat magic, to shape stone around us…"

* * *

**

The next day, Link remained asleep.

And the next.

When the third day rolled around, Kattala brought her apprentice work into the guest room and practiced at the writing desk. Whenever she got frustrated with her progress she went over to the bed and gave her friend a good hard prod.

It didn't help.

By the fifth day she was getting rather peeved about the situation. As she got up for the fifth time in twenty minutes, Master Tangle looked in to see how she and Link were doing.

"That can't be good for him, Kat." He said mildly, as she reached over and pinched her friend rather viciously.

"The doctor said he should be up and about by now." She replied mulishly, pulling away, "He said there's nothing wrong with him now as can be helped by sleeping. So he's not ill – he's lazy, and I won't be having with it. If he isn't up in two days, I'm going to zap him."

"With what?" By this point Tangle was fighting a smile.

"My magic is what."

Tangle's smile disappeared.

"You can't—Dearie, that is not an ethical use of magic, not in the slightest."

Kattala's eyes flared at that, wide and outraged and muted green.

"Ethical?" She demanded, "Since when was ethics keeping anyone from casting a killing spell? Ethics didn't prevent the war, nor guide the Ansalian King when he decided he'd let the rebellion fester. Ethics didn't burn the house in Serral down. Ethics didn't keep the rebels from healing the lawmen just so they could hack them up again. Ethics certainly didn't keep my mother from fixing my face this way so they'd recognize me the next time I tried to run away!"

"Kat." Tangle said, eyes bright. She blinked back tears of her own, then turned her gaze glumly to the floor.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair nor decent of me. Right childish. It's just – he's my only friend, Tangle. The only one I have that's my own age. I never had that before. I read the Doctor's note. If he doesn't start those exercises soon, his hand will turn into not more than a claw, and he'll barely move his fingers. He's got his mission. How's he going to do all that with one hand? More – how's he going to play his ocarina like that? He needs wakening, Tangle. Soon."

"I know. But just because others have is no excuse to use your powers for ill."

"But I would be doing him _good._" She insisted weakly, then gave it up and sat down in her chair, defeated.

"I know. Just keep watching over him, my pet." He stood and patted her shoulder, then stroked her bright hair and left. She sniffed slightly, making a raw sucking noise.

"Hey." Link said hoarsely after a moment, squinting up at his friend from his place on the bed, "Did your mother really do that? To your face?"

Kattala smiled and wiped a tear away from the wreckage of her nose and cheek.

"Only half of it. You've got to stop doing this every time we meet, Link. It's right drawing on one's mind."

"Sorry." He turned his face away towards the window. "Where's Darunia?" Link asked softly, "How long've I been out?"

"He's in the stables, as he's too heavy to bring into the house. Darunia Firefist came with you to Kakariko five days past. He said you were sleeping a dozen days at least before he got here."

"Huh." He replied, then closed his eyes. "My hand's still there?"

"Yes."

"That's good. I can feel it. But Reya said after she lost her leg that she could still feel it there sometimes too."

"Are you going to have a look at it?"

"Not right now. I don't want to know how bad it is. Stung by a scorpion, cursed by a ghost, burnt by a fire-breathing pet lizard. This has got to stop happening to me."

"Mmm. Are you going to lay in bed for another week?"

"When's dinner?"

"In three hours."

"I'll get up then, I 'spose."

"All right."

"Hey, Kat?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me a story from outside of Hyrule?" He asked wistfully, wanting to change the topic from his injury, and she frowned.

"Why?" She wanted to know, and Link shrugged.

"I dunno, to keep me awake? I like stories." He said without much inflection. Kattala shrugged.

"Well, why not? No harm in it, I think."

* * *

Once upon a time, in Selen, there was a little girl. She was pretty and brave, with skin as pale as those from Ansalia, hair as red as a war flag, and eyes as green as jungle leaves. Her family was large, but they never went hungry, and they all loved each other with all their hearts. They all had their special magicks, and that was enough for them.

In those days, the land was ruled by an evil Duke. He was greedy, and when villages could not send what he thought they ought to tithe, he sent mages to curse the towns for their disobedience. Because of this, the simple folk believed that anyone who had that extra magic as could make them a professional mage, was evil.

The pretty girl grew up to be even more beautiful as a woman than she had been as a girl. She was skilled enough in the kitchen that she sold meals in the market square, and brought home money to add to the little jar that went towards her dowry.

But the pretty girl had a secret she kept safe from everybody – she had that extra magic, that simple folk were feared of. If she were to be sent to those schools as mages had to go to, she would have learned to be an enchantress, a right powerful one. She would also have learned that those who didn't learn to manage that extra magic, went funny in the head if they used it wrong, or if they didn't use it at all. All that power had to go somewhere, so in it went to all the things she cooked. But that was only a little of her magic, so soon she was snapping at her brothers, and fighting with her sisters who she shared a bed with.

When she reached her coming of age, her parents began to bring her to the temple, to join in on services, as only adults could. After service she was introduced to the men who were looking for brides, and they were right charmed by her. She was the most asked-after in all the town, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother and father found a man acceptable and married her off as they had with her sisters before her.

She had her eye on one lad, with skin as dark as walnut, and shorn black hair all coarse and curly. He was courteous and good-natured, and brave as a tiger. He worked in the smithy just across the street from her cookery stall, so they saw each other often as they could. Soon as not, they grew to love each other. She often cried, quiet in the dark so she wouldn't wake her unmarried sisters, as she knew her parents would not accept her lad, not with him being all the way from the border near the Frostlands. Not with him all dark colors and white teeth.

He knew the only way he could marry her was to make his fortune, and match her dowry bit for gold bit. So he told her he was joining the army campaign in far-off Wehana, which is halfway across the Continent, beyond Idre. He told her he'd be back in two years, and he'd win her if she waited that long. He gave her a tiger-skin, and bid her to demand to her folks that she would only marry the man as could piece through that tough hide. She gave him a lock of her hair as a token, and sent him on his way with a kiss.

Those times were tough, all around, while she waited for him. Suitors made offers, but each time her folks approved, she just brought out that tiger-skin and made her demands. Not a man could cut nor piece that hide. Not a knife, a sword, a spear, or an ax.

Still, she was unmatched in beauty nor skill in the kitchen, so there was no end to her hopeful paramours.

A year passed. Her family began to despair of her and thought she'd never wed. They thought maybe she was funny in the head, and maybe she really was. One day while she was working, her younger sisters stole that tiger-skin and hid it in the cellar. But the next time a suitor came a-calling, she reached under her bed and pulled out the pelt.

They tried everything, her folks did. They locked it in a box, they hung it high in a tree, threw it into the river, buried it, sold it, burned it, and it always returned each time as her suitors came to plea for her hand.

They gave up then, was what they did.

On the day those two years passed, the girl's lad returned from Wehana. He'd been decorated, and given enough money to start his own smithy. He took new lodgings, then fancied himself up, and came calling on the girl's door. Her folks were unhappy that he was the kind that they thought of as a foreigner, but he was a war hero, their girl liked him, and he had money. The girl was joyful to hear the news, that she might marry her love, but she kept her promise, and pulled that tiger-skin out from under her bed. She told him he had to pierce it to wed her.

So he took that skin, put it on, and before her and her folk's eyes, he turned into a tiger. When they were shocked enough, he changed back into his human form, and reminded them that he was a good prospect, and more, a Changeling that would be able to protect the girl better nor any human soldier.

It took some convincing, on both the lad and the girl's parts, but in the end they were betrothed. He went off into the deep country, to the town called Peycaul, to build a house for him and his future bride, and to start up a smithy closer in to the village.

When he returned, they were wed, and he took her away from Serral and the coast, deep into the hot country as is the heart of Selen, where tiny Peycaul lay.

The girl had trouble bearing children, not like her mother, but within years, they had two children – two boys. The smithy flourished, and the couple lived in happiness.

Until their daughter was born.

* * *

"Who was that about?" Link wondered after a long pause. Kattala smiled faintly.

"My mother and my Da."

"Really? It was a good story. Are you going to get to the part about you?" He asked curiously, and she pinched her lips together sternly.

"Tell you what – you get out of bed, and up and going, and starting those exercises for your hand as the Doctor said you ought. Then I'll tell you the rest."

"Fair enough." Link sighed.

"Good." She said, and then grinned. Link smiled back, glad to see his friend in a good mood after a long slumber punctuated by urgent voices and pain.

He glanced down at his hand, which was thickly wrapped in linen bandages. Link gave his fingers an experimental wiggle. He regretted it immediately, not because of the pain, but because he could barely move them at all.

He'd let himself hope there would be some miracle cure. There was not – his amber fruit long gone. But now, now Link couldn't lie to himself. He'd been careless – his easy defeat of the Pyratae had made him cocky. And now? He was crippled. From now on, he'd have to be careful. From now on, he'd have to be ruthless in battle.

From now on, he'd have to fight for those blood sacrifices.

* * *

1. There seems to be some confusion about the various spirits the Gorons interact with. The Pyratae is the spirit of Death Mountain. It takes form as a person of flesh only when it encounters a fleshling. The form it takes depends on what its opponent fears or considers most formidable. Link was raised by the Amazons, so naturally he considers women more worthy opponents than men, thus the Pyratae's form. In Darunia's tale, he meets the Fire Spirit, who in Goron mythology is the deity of the earth, while her husband the Ice Spirit is the deity of the sky.

2. So school has started up again for me. I am taking Chemistry, Ethics, Christian Scriptures, and World Mythology. I wonder how that will influence this story. I guess we'll just have to see! By the way, I am an English major and a Psychology minor.

3. This weekend my boyfriend and I will be going to the Ohaycon in Columbus, OH. If anyone else is going and wants to meet up at some point, please contact me via PM or my email address on my profile page. I'd love to chat!

* * *

As always, reviews are loved, especially specific details.


	44. Fracture

This weekend was a lot of fun! I really enjoyed Ohayocon. Well, enough about me, here's the newest chapter.

As of 2-1-2011, there are 516 chapters, 212 favs, 212 alerts, and 69,000 hits.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Three: Fracture**

* * *

"Wait," Dark gasped into his bond-mate's eager mouth, pulling back, face flushed. "It's late and we've an early morning coming soon."

Rick Keen frowned, then drew away with a look of resignation.

"You're right, I know." He sighed, and turned his head away. Dark frowned back at him, knowing what his bond-mate was thinking. Short ears. Ugly. Rape-get.

"It's not you, Rick," Dark said with as much reassurance as he could, "Just the time is all. We have to be up in four hours. I'm – just going to use the latrine and I'll be ready for sleep, all right?"

"By all means," Rick said sardonically, and gestured to the flap of their two-person tent. Their regiment was camped out in a field close to the Western Highway, on their way to Parchen with the trade caravan they were guarding.

Dark rose to do his business, returning a few minutes later. With a deep sigh, he sank back down on the nest they'd made of their shared bedrolls, and into Rick's welcoming embrace. It took a moment of readjusting, but soon they found a comfortable entanglement, Rick's dark head on the taller boy's shoulder.

"There's a strange scent on the wind." Dark said into Rick's hair.

"What?" Rick asked in surprise, jerking out of half-sleep.

"Reminds me of something, something deep down."

"Hmm. Which part? The monster or the dreamer?"

"Both. The monster recognizes it a little, woke him a little, makes him restless – he knows it's dangerous." Dark's voice was subdued, almost dreamy. He shivered at the feel of his bond-mate's breath on his neck. "But the dreamer, he knows it well. I keep getting these images in my head, like they're memories, my memories. Only I've never seen buildings that tall in all my life, square towers dressed all in glass. Women wearing trousers, steel and glass carts without horses, flying down basalt roads. He knows the smell. It's the Mad God. Something about that man went wrong somewhere, the dreamer thinks it's my fault, somehow, well, his fault. There was a room, with two beds on top of each other. The God slept on the top, and in the room there was a box with dancing lights… It's hard to describe."

Rick leaned in closer and man-handled Dark into a tighter embrace.

"Stop worrying about it, skinny. We'll figure it out." He said gruffly, drawing the blankets up higher and kissing the younger boy fervently. "Just try to get to sleep. Early morning tomorrow and all."

Dark huffed in affection, completely reassured and trusting, and closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep. Rick laid back, mind processing what his bond-mate had seen, no – not seen, remembered – trying to discern what it all meant.

"Storm's coming." He whispered to himself, watching in the dark warmth of the tent for enemies that never came.

* * *

"Are you going to play your ocarina, or not?" Kattala queried from her perch on the Sheikah Memorial in the graveyard.

"I don't even know if I can, still." Link admitted, pocketing the little bean-filled ball he'd been given to exercise his grip, and eyed his burnt hand.

It had long since healed in the two weeks since he'd woken from unconsciousness, finding himself suddenly back in Kakariko. The skin was mottled and puckered, discolorations snaking from his ring finger, up the back of his hand where it had been burnt the worst, ending in a little trail beyond his wrist. The thumb and forefinger had escaped from being burnt, but the flame-rot had made them stiff, and they didn't always obey his mental commands. The ring and pinky fingers were useless – they were completely rigid and curled like claws. The middle finger he could flex somewhat, but the rigidity of the last two fingers affected its ability to move easily.

He'd spent the majority of the last two weeks exercising his hand as often as Doctor Horald allowed, and learning to write left-handed. He had to readjust his fighting forms to allow for a new dominant arm.

"Won't hurt to try," She offered. Link shot her a perturbed look.

"It can. Sides, if I try, maybe I'll see I can't." He added doubtfully, and Kattala snorted in disgust.

"Maybe that's so. Or maybe if you stop your little sulk and try, you'll find you can. I don't care about your mission, not more'n you, but you better buck it up, or you won't never get the courage up to even leave this city, at this rate."

"What?" Link said, taken aback. His friend wasn't mollified.

"You're turning into a coward is what." She accused, "If you can't play an ocarina, fine. You'll get over it. There are other things to play. Outside Azavaire, battle mages use whistles to fight. They need both hands free, so they play it with breath and tongue. I have some at the house. So no worries, boyo."

"Could've told me this sooner." Link grumbled. Kattala rolled her eyes.

"Just play the dratted instrument, Link Forrester."

So he did.

And hey, he'd never write nor hold a sword with his right hand again - not well - but the Ocarina of Time was warm and alive in his hands, and it only needed six fingers to play. There was nothing in his mind but breath and song, nothing but that, eyes closed to revel in the fact that this, at least, had remained possible for him.

Kattala laughed next to him, and he was shaken out of his reverie.

"Look – you made birds!"

Link looked up, at the swarm of multi-colored lights swirling around them. Sure enough, the light had taken the form of birds, delicate, long-tailed birds with bright eyes. They circled in a loose cyclone around the two children, flying faster and faster, more quickly and more nimbly than any real bird.

Link stopped playing, and as one, the birds opened their beaks and cried out in a single note, rising in pitch, as they whirled round in ever increasing speed, the circle growing smaller and more out of control.

"What did you do?" Kattala hissed, and Link met her green eyes with his own widening blue ones.

"I just played – I don't think I even used magic!"

"Whatever you did, you just woke up every spirit in the graveyard."

"What? How?"

The edge of the circle reached the two children, and then they were on them, the bird-souls pressing in and brushing up against living skin. Link got fleeting feelings of glee, and freedom, and a predator's instinct to jump and stalk and tear.

Kattala grunted next to him, and shoved at the circle with her hands. She slid off the memorial, taking the whirl of birds with her.

The lights that made the birds grew brighter, then the note the things had held ceased, the light flared, and sank into Kattala's skin. She spread out her hands, the glow pulsing wildly, and the lights rocketed out of her, settling into orbit around her, having lost their bird forms and now appearing as little shapeless orbs.

"That's enough of that, loves. I remember all of you. Time to return to your sleep." She said clearly, and the lights zoomed away into their graves. Kattala wiped sweaty palms on her dress skirt.

"I don't understand." Link said to her as she hopped onto the memorial tablet and sat down again. "How did you do that? They were going to eat us. I felt that clearly enough."

Kattala averted her eyes.

"You got to understand." She said softly, "I don't mean no harm to anyone. It's just that I've got essence manipulation magic. But not like the green thumbs who work with just plants, or mage smiths who only work with metal. I've got it all. But forget about me-" She said, shaking her bright head, "What did you feel when you were playing?"

"Freedom. I felt free again. Were the ghosts feeding off of that?"

"Yes, that. I know that feeling, like something died inside, and then you move on, and it's like living all over again. They like that feeling, a lot. So much that they'll jump you for it, and if you're not lucky, they'll stay in you for good."

"What, like a possession?"

"Not exactly. Souls get stronger as they get older. But they also get angry, when all their loved ones die to and there's no one left as to remember them. That's how Demonchildren come about. Two souls, one body. They're outlawed in the Ansalian Empire, but there seem to be plenty in Hyrule, since you don't have a proper Cult of the Dead and all."

"Kattala," Link said slowly, "Can you talk to dead people?"

She looked at him blankly.

"Only necromancers can. Do I look like one to you?" She said, a hint of outrage in her voice.

"It's just that you talk to them like the ghosts can understand you."

"I just learned to handle them from Dampe, is all."

"Okay." Link eyed the position of the sun in the sky. "It's getting close to Third Worship – should we head back?"

"All right," Kattala agreed easily, and off they went, leaving the graves and ghosts and secrets behind.

* * *

"You never told me the rest of your story," Link commented the next day, setting his book down upon the window seat cushion. Kattala looked up from the shirt she'd been sewing.

"What, now?" She queried, and Link shrugged.

"Why not? Unless you need to concentrate on your work."

"I'm not doing magic just yet, if that's what you mean."

"Please tell me?"

"All right." She allowed, bowing her head and returning to her stitching, speaking as she worked.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. Her mother had never carried easily, but that confinement was hard in particular. She worried she would not carry to term, so when a wandering prophet made use of her home's hospitality, she requested that he might repay her by blessing her womb, and he did. When it came time to give birth, it was after the right amount of time as babies need to come out living and well-formed. She gave birth to one living baby girl, and three dead little boys.

Now, powerful magic isn't something that can or ought to be contained. Ear clips don't help none either. When you use it wrong or not at all, it puts you all funny in the head, makes you a little bit crazy, see. The little girl's mother should have been a strong enchantress, but she had no schooling, nor any wish to use it. So she kept her power hidden from superstitious neighbors as thought that strong magic was bad magic.

So when only one child of four lived, she blamed that baby girl for the others' deaths. It was all she could do to nurse that little one. Her Da took over instead, but for feeding. He was happy, because she had the birthmarks that showed she had Changeling blood in her. She would never be able to transform, but she knew animal nature, and in the future her children would be Changelings themselves. He named her Kattala, because she had a cat's nature in her, and she loved him in return. Her mother stayed as distant and cool as Seles' far blue lunar face, and that little girl did her best to win her mother's love.

Her older brothers learned that they wouldn't get cuffed if they treated her poorly, so long as their Da didn't see. They pulled her hair, burned her rag doll, pinched and poked and took the food from her plate even when there wasn't as much food to go around. So she stayed small, and she learned to play with things that couldn't get broke, or things she could find more of, like sticks for swords, or digging for buried treasure with flat rocks.

She wasn't more than three when her powers started showing, and she was strong at them from the start. Her mother saw her chattering to no one, and spelling her toys so they wouldn't break no matter what happened to them, and tying knots in things as wouldn't ever get undone. Her mother feared that her past was catching up to her, for the magic Kattala had could not have come from her Da, being a Changeling as he was. Her mind started getting worse and worse, and when she struck her daughter for dropping the dishes, and her brothers never smiled or helped her, and her Da always looked so tired trying to make peace after a long day in the smithy, the little girl knew how much better her family's life would be without her. She knew it was her fault her mother was ill, so she decided to run away so they wouldn't be troubled by her no longer.

Well, her Da came home that night, and saw she was gone. He made her brothers get up and look for her. They looked all around the house, the yard, and the woods near by, but she wasn't to be found in any of those places. So they went home, and her Da put his pelt on and tracked her himself. She'd gotten a mile away or so, and fallen asleep, so he took off his tiger-skin and carried her home. Well, her mother wasn't happy about it, so she cuffed the little girl about the head and sent her to bed with no supper, which was the usual thing that happened anyways.

Things got worse, after that. She learned to bolt her food before it even touched the plate. She learned to be graceful or she'd fall over every time her brothers pushed her. She went to the smithy and helped pump the bellows just so she could stay near her Da all day. She tried so hard to be good.

It never got better, no matter what she tried, so she ran away again, soon as she could. Her Da found her in a neighbor's barn, and then a week later trying to cross the Halkirk Creek where it was shallow, then in a month, making a little house for herself in the far off forest out of old logs and pine branches. No matter how far she got, he always found her. Soon the neighbors heard, and they gossiped all about, and then everyone knew her parents couldn't keep their own girl from disobeying them.

One day, her older brother tripped her, and she fell over, face first into the corner of a chair. It dented her cheek and smashed her nose, and if she'd ever been a pretty girl, she weren't no more. Her family wasn't rich enough to afford a healer right off, so her Da started working more and more, so they could call a good healer from the city, as was a day's journey away. But her mother got an idea in her head, and made it so her daughter's face wouldn't heal. So when she tried to run away again, no one would forget what she looked like on account of that broken face. And it worked – she only ran away twice before she gave up. There was no use in trying anymore, for everyone who saw her remembered her now.

Her mother got with child again, and this confinement was as easy as ripe fruit dropping off the tree. She gave birth to a pretty little girl, as looked like both parents, not like Kattala, who only looked like her mother but for her gold skin. Well, right away that baby girl was perfect, didn't even have to try. They named her Shalene, and if everyone loved her, and there was less for her older sister, it wasn't Shalene's fault.

Everything changed when Kattala was seven. The tide of war changed – the rebels began to lose, and the Ansalian Empire took full control over all the cities and as many important resources as they could. The Empire was hot on the rebel's tails, so they retreated to the deep country, the land of hot sun and steamy, windy nights lit by the light clouds. Peycaul was in that country, and the war got brought to that girl's doorstep. It wasn't safe any more, so Kattala's mother bundled her children up and moved back into her folk's house in the city of Serral, for safety, leaving her husband to fight for the Empire while they were gone.

Well! In the cities, strong magic was accepted. It got more and more obvious what power Kattala had. Serral wasn't a small city, but not a big one either, just a sort of middling one, as didn't have its own school of magic. Kattala's family hoped she'd learn to control her powers, and no more. But because she was ugly, scrawny, and a girl to boot, she got apprenticed to Tangle Ferres, as was the most disfavored mage in the whole city. It weren't that he was weak, nor unskilled, nor unsuccessful, nor of poor character. It was all because he lived with a man and kept no wife, and didn't pretend it was otherwise.

Ansalia says there's nothing wrong with man marrying man and woman wedding woman, and the laws in the Empire keeps that rule. It doesn't keep those marriages from being shunned in the Awl and in Selen. Laws are all well and good, except when they go right against tradition.

Tangle liked his new apprentice well enough – said she was right clever, and a dab hand at craft magic. There were old laws in Selen as said that an apprentice's master had just as much rights to their apprentice as what their parents had. When there were problems at the family home, he had a say in stopping it. She loved her Da, but Master Tangle got things done as her Da never could. His lover was never affectionate to her, but he was polite, which was as good as it could get.

Just as fast, the war changed again, and the rebels brought their fighting back to the cities, having built up enough momentum in the poor country. War came to Serral when she was nine. Everyone was getting out, but for those fool enough to stay. Her mother was one of those fools, as were her family. But Master Tangle had had enough. He sold the old house, gathered his things, and together with his lover and his apprentice, fled Old-region Selen for coastal Ansalia. But he hadn't gone about his business well enough – a rebel was interested enough to follow after them, thinking revenge could be gotten on what he thought were Ansalian spies returning to their native lands. So they fled from Ansalia, sailed across the Lapiz River, skirted the edge of western Idre, and entered the sanctuary of Azavaire, the lost country.

That's how I got here. And if I could say there's a happy ending, that'd be wrong.

* * *

"What do you mean by that?" Link demanded, "You've still got a life to live. You're not even grown yet, Kat."

Kattala finished stitching a sleeve to the tunic she was working on, then smiled simply.

"Link, I'm not the kind of person as will get a happy ending."

"What -" She held up a hand to interrupt.

"Even now, Link, you'll get one. You've got a sort of destiny around you. Handsome, wily, brave, and stubborn as a bull, you are. I'll get along, and maybe I'll be worth enough that some man will want me for a wife so he can get my earnings, and the manor. And I'm not so vain that I think it's all the fault of my face, neither. I'm a foreigner, Link, with funny ways and a funny accent. I'm not posh like everyone is here. I say strange things and I can't hold my tongue like a girl should. I don't wear an ear clip, I don't have long ears, I don't have pale skin like a proper lady. I spend my days in graveyards - of all places – I speak to the dead as if they hear me. The North is a place as has hard values, and it's more so in the mountains. I'll be lucky if any man wants me." Link opened his mouth to protest, but she continued on before he could say anything. "And that's okay, Link. Really it is. I don't need love like that as is in legends and ballads. Just a normal marriage is I all want, with a warm bed and children to raise."

"You could be so much more, Kat. Get out of this city, out of Mountain Province, to the big cities. There are woman mages there, academies to be trained in. You're just going to give that up to get married to a man you don't even love?"

"My wedding – if I get one, like – is a long way away. And me leave Tangle? Dampe? The graveyard? I couldn't. I'm set to inherit the house and the leyline station, that's a guaranteed roof over my head, and my living its earning. You've never had to worry about that, but I do. The rebels, they burned my home in Peycaul right down to the foundations. Everything we owned, gone. We had to sleep in the neighbor's barn until we could build a new one, and after that, we slept on beds of straw on the floor because we couldn't afford proper beds."

"But-"

"And it's not like I want to marry you, anyhow. So stop flapping your lips about it."

"Hey!" He grumbled, then grinned. "I think I'm offended! You don't have to get married to anyone, you know."

Kattala shrugged.

"I'll just wait 'til I'm older, I think." She set her work aside, drew a penny whistle out of her skirt pocket, and twirled it between her fingers idly. "You think you can play without waking half the world this time?"

"Sure, why not?" Link said amiably, then turned a suspicious look on his friend. "You can handle them again if they do?"

"Try not to. But yes, I can."

"Good." Link replied, and raised his ocarina to his lips.

* * *

Later that day, Tangle stopped Kattala in the hall on the way to her room.

"I was going over the inventory in your workshop earlier, and found these on the lower shelf in the cabinets." He held up two wax spheres, frowning. "My dear, how did you get two amber fruit? They're very expensive."

"Those are amber fruit? _Real_ amber fruit?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Yes."

"_Sheol_ take it down to the depths!" Kattala cursed, then took the two amber fruit spheres and ran up the stairs to Link's room. He looked up from where he had been sitting, strengthening his grip with his little set of weighted balls.

"Kat, what is it?" He asked, looking alarmed.

"You left these." She said, shoving out both hands, each one filled with a fruit. "Must have done before you went up the mountain, like. I didn't know what they were, but I swear, if I'd have known I would have given them back as soon as you came back all hurt like you did."

Link stared at her for a long moment, then switched his gaze to the fruits in her hands. His face fell, then his mouth quirked.

Kattala watched, confused, as he began to laugh. He only chuckled at first, but soon it had resolved itself into full-out laughter. He wiped tears from his eyes with his good hand, shoulders shaking, breath sobbing.

"I-" He tried, but went back to laughing.

"What?" She pressed.

"I kept thinking I'd heal all the way. That there was some complete cure. And maybe there was. But it's too late now. I paid the price. I'm healed, but not whole."

A tear rolled down Kattala's cheek, and she wiped it away hastily.

"Master Tangle tried amber fruit on me too, long ago in Serral. But my face was too long-healed to have any effect." She confessed, and Link smiled bitterly.

"What a pair we are, Kattala. I think I should be ready to go in two months. Can't hide in Kakariko forever, you know, and if I'm not ready by then, I never will be."

"That's the spirit!" Kattala replied with approval. "I'm working on something for you, and I can get it done by then. You just keep working on your forms and your writing. Deal?"

He nodded, and took her offered hand in his.

"Deal."

* * *

Dark and Rick wiped the sweat off their brows, panting as they marched alongside the caravan in the Drought Country heat. The train of wagons was almost at the top of a long ridge, and Dark's legs were burning with fatigue. He looked over at his bond-mate, whose harsh features were set in a determined frown. The blonde boy drew in a deep breath from between clenched teeth and soldiered on.

The danger set upon them so quickly that the call to alarm never came. Their swords were all in the carts, so instead Dark fumbled for the baton at his belt, bringing the heavy wooden rod up to meet the downswing of a bandit's blade. The impact wrenched down his arm and into his shoulder, but he held it firm. Dark raised his foot and lashed out at the man's gut, doubling the man over. He used the opportunity to knock the sword aside, and clubbed the bandit upside the temple with his baton. Then again. Again. Harder. While the man was stunned, he stomped on the man's sword hand and took the blade for his own, messily decapitating the bandit with the poor edge of the sword.

Dark looked around for his bond-mate, and located Rick, yards away in the midst of the battle, fighting carefully against the two bandits circling him. Rick had picked up what looked like either a hoe, or a shovel with the edge sharpened, a tool hastily turned into a weapon. When Rick got the opportunity, he smashed the head of a less prudent bandit in one blow.

A man ran past Dark – without thinking he struck, head buzzing, a movement he'd never been taught, jumping up and kicking out at the apex of his jump, sword slashing down as he and the fighter fell together to the ground. His sword flashed, slicing across the man's back and severing the spine. In a smooth movement Dark rolled to a crouch, and took out the knees of the next bandit that came near.

Rick was easily handling his own, laying out punishment to any bandit that stood against him. When he got the moment, he located Dark and ran over to him, thinking he would get close enough to fight back to back. He got halfway there.

Then fire streaked overhead briefly. The concussion from the exploding wagon knocked both boys flat, smoke and dirt everywhere.

They scrambled to their feet, as the second wagon splintered and spat gouts of fire, both trainees trying to get away. Dazed by the force, Dark saw the bandit too late.

Rending pain in his chest, his mouth filled with blood. Two inches of steel protruded from his chest, then pulled out slickly when the bandit raised his foot to Dark's back and took his sword back. He slumped on the ground, cold and laying in the spreading puddle that was his life's blood.

Dark raised his head weakly, looking for Rick. There was something in him, beyond the sensation of pain and death, something that had felt this way before. Why?

_I will fight. I will fight the unjust, and the just alike. I will deny death many times over. I will fight for me and myself only, and I owe no more allegiance to any but him._ The monster said, its voice harsh and sharp as a jagged blade.

Rick looked over at his pair-bond, blue-gold eyes horrified, desperately trading blows with a new opponent as he tried to get to Dark.

The third and fourth wagons were attacked. Fire flickered again, reaching the wagons that held the barrels of black powder. The blast sent anyone near flying, smoke billowing into the sky, blotting out the sun.

Dark heard his partner yell a war cry, distantly, and then that meticulous control he'd always labored for snapped.

The dark, bolted, battered door in his soul opened, letting out a beast far worse than any bandit. He lurched to his feet, paying no mind to the hole in his chest, no longer bleeding. The sensation of blood loss, the cold chill faded in the face of the fire inside, the feeling of the monster reaching through him to take control. One mental touch from it numbed all his pains, and he handed over the reins of his body without any second thoughts.

Then it was up, stand and run, sword in hand once more. The reek of the unwashed bandits was stronger to the south-east, and his feet took him there, body sliding through the air faster than it ever had before.

They were there, there for him to kill, to taunt and toy with. A smile stretched his thin lips, anticipatory. Then he was on them, the ones who had not yet arrived upon the wagons, the leftovers.

Blood in his mouth, and screams of men.

* * *

1. Is anyone interested in a map of Vanity? If so I will post it on my livejournal and provide a link. That way you can see the geography and positioning of Ansalia, Selen, the Awl, Idre, and even Azavaire/Hyrule.

2. Next chapter will have lots of plot. I've just started chapter 45, which will probably be the most kickass chapter in the book, and is titled Forty Days.

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Please review. I really enjoy them.


	45. Incitement

It's been a month! Now that I've entered Mid-term Break, I have more time to write. Chapter 45 was the chapter that just wouldn't die. I kid you not - the next chapter is 9,800 words long. That's a lot of writing! But I refuse to make these chapters any shorter - the story has to end eventually! Please, enjoy.

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Chapter Forty-Four: Incitement

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"Get out of here!" Kattala shrieked, waving a broom over her head as she chased the boy out of the graveyard, "You'd best stay away this time, or I'll come straight to your mother, don't think I won't!" The boy, not much younger than her, who had been defacing grave markers with a large piece of charcoal, finally got the message. He paused to pull a ghastly face at her, gestured rudely, and then bolted for the road as fast as he could when she caught up and started beating him around the head with her twig broom. After he was gone around the bend in the cobbled road Kattala stopped her pursuit and returned to Link's seat on the Sheikah Memorial, not even panting from the brisk run.

"Oh, Sheol's depths!" She muttered in disgust to him as she took in the grin on her friend's face, "Get that sodding smile off your face, Link. It isn't funny. He just won't stop coming around, no matter how often I chase him away!" Kattala harrumphed in frustration, and went back to sweeping the dirt paths free of stones and leaves, her movements violently irritated. "If he keeps this up, and I don't catch him while he's at it, one of the older ghosts is going to do him a right nasty turn."

"Then let them." Link advised, marking his place in the book he was reading by means of a finger between the pages. "He deserves it."

"Oh, for-!" She hurriedly swept the rest of the leaves off the path and threw the broom down. "It's not about deserving or anything. I know better, so it's my responsibility to keep it from happening. You Hylians. You're all so ignorant about the dead. I know more than the entire town – but for Dampe – and I'm only twelve – no, thirteen now. It's right discouraging, it is."

"Well then," Link said, his tone peeved, "Do tell me about how the unruly dead are managed in the lands beyond Hyrule."

"I left Outside when I was nine, but it's called the Cult of the Dead. Members had to get certified, I think, and Tangle mentioned something about rituals where long lists of the names of the dead were read over incense. I didn't think it would be worse in Hyrule." She kicked idly at the broom handle and leaned against the cool stone of the Sheikah Memorial. "There's no wars here, just oppression, or at least there used to be. But you all think burying a body and saying a few words over the grave keeps them happy. You'd think they deserve appeasing! Since there's more dead than there are as are living. But I guess not."

"You're a very strange girl, Kattala." Link said mock-gravely, and she shrugged.

"I suppose."

"Hey – my grip's getting better on my bad hand. Look-" He demonstrated by dog-earing his page, then shut it. He fit his fingers around the spine, closing them, and carefully lifting the book with his right hand. His hand shook, but the monograph was firmly clutched in his maimed hand. Kattala clapped in approval, grinning.

"You're getting better every day, I see."

Link allowed himself a smile.

"That was the plan." He admitted with pleasure, and went back to reading about folklore in the Curled Backbone Mountains.

* * *

Ferrick absently flipped through the reports Deana had brought him. Ganondorf lounged in an armchair across the study table, dark and feline as any panther.

"What news, Ferrick Rauros?" The King inquired softly, and Ferrick didn't look up from the papers he'd been given.

"Sideland is taken for the South." He replied, "Edgetown will follow. All of eastern Imally is as good as seceded - all the Hylian King's grasping will not succeed in retaking the forest lands."

"Hylian King, you third-rank nobleman? When did I become the king in your eyes?" Ganondorf asked silkily, and Ferrick spared his father-in-law a brief glance.

"When you promised me a rule for the people, not glory and death."

"Not for revenge or justice?"

"Revenge is fruitless." Ferrick dismissed easily, "And we will never have justice, not fully. Daphnes Harkinian Hyrule's influence is all but gone. He can't even suspect the treason in his own courts. He has tithed too greedily, and ransomed too many lord's sons. With enough encouragement, the Lakeland and Lake Hylia Provinces will follow Imally and the Drought Country's lead, cease sending taxes and supplies to the North, and will start training their armies to follow a new standard."

"Never in all your days, young man, did you see yourself as a revolutionary?"

Ferrick shrugged idly.

"There are many things I never meant to do, yet I have done all of them. What would you have me do next?"

Ganondorf grinned, bathed in the sunlight that poured through great glass windows.

"Win me a country that can be saved from the excesses of the North."

* * *

Sweat rolled down Rick Keen's back as he shoveled dirt into the open grave. He paid it no mind, because his heart and guts were as cold and frozen as ice.

Unbidden, his mind went back to the image of Dark, his Dark, run through and dead in a morass of his own blood. At some point the body had been taken, but Rick knew not to hope. No one could survive that. And it could not have been an illusion, because magic didn't touch Rick. There were scorch marks all around the pool of blood where Dark had lain, and charred bodies everywhere. Many of the dead were unrecognizable, their coin pouches missing.

It was tradition for every soldier to wear a coin pouch, containing a split coin. Bond-mates each carried a half of the same coin, and when they married, the coins would be further split into quarters, and given to their new wives. Upon a soldier's death, his sword served as a marker for his grave, the coin pouch attached to the hilt, and the coin piece taken home to Patcheem for a proper memorial.

What would he do now? No women would marry him. No single soldier would want to take him as bond-mate. Further, he wanted no others! Best to leave those hopes behind, and go into the nothingness he desired so fiercely.

When the graves had been filled, the spells laid so the dead would not rise to fight trespassers, Rick took his own sword and thrust it into the heart of the dried puddle of Dark's life-blood. He took his coin pouch and hung it around the grip of the sword. Dark's blade was better than the standard one he'd been issued.

He would need it, where he was going.

The call to regroup came, no more fear of another bandit attack. No – not bandits, his mind protested – armed farmers, their own land, somehow knowing the caravan had never carried civilian supplies as it pretended to. Informed somehow, and choosing to attack soldiers of the King, and a caravan heading for the sidelines of the rebellion in Imally. Why?

Unless it was not merely Imally who wished to rebel, to secede. Who else?

Lakeland? Lake Hylia? Drought Country, where the caravan had been attacked?

His superiors would not believe him. His history preceded him. He was barely grown, unloved by even his clan. No need to pay attention to his instincts, which were screaming at him.

Dark would know what to say to make them listen, and Rick almost turned to ask him. Nothing. He was gone. Not even his body left to mourn over.

Rick didn't realize he'd fallen to his knees until the stones cut into his legs. He planted his hands deep in the congealed blood, tears washing tracks through the grime, soot and blood on his face. There was nothing after this. Nothing.

Who would know him now? If only one person knew you - all your secrets, hopes and dreams, petty wishes and deepest longings - did those parts still exist when that person left forever?

Rick… no one would call him that anymore. He was only Cadet Keen now.

His superiors called for him.

Keen stood, wiping his tears away with bloody hands. And if he only succeeded in making his face look even more gruesome than before, well, no one told him so.

* * *

It was morning when Dark regained consciousness. He blinked brown-red eyes against the harsh Southern sunlight, then stretched, confused that he'd woken up standing. Something was off. There was something in his - he spat out a mouthful of blood and what appeared to be part of a fingernail and some flesh. Dark stared at it, horrified, then frantically began a search of his body when he remembered the steel that had been thrust through his heart. His clothes were in tatters, blood on his hands, scratch marks on his arms and chest that stung dully. He touched his bare chest to find a thick scar over his heart, healed already.

He shook out his limbs, expecting to feel shaky, weak and exhausted from letting the monster out to do his fighting for him. But no, he felt… good. Aside from the shallow scratches, more than good. His muscles felt loose, oddly satisfied in a way even carnality could not induce. Blood sang through his veins, and he reached into himself to examine the Monster's door. It was closed, but the locks were missing, the heavy bolt gone. Behind the door came the soft breathing of sleep. The Dreamer's door was closed as well, the Dreamer softly muttering to himself in mild distress, but the words were unintelligible even when Dark pressed his ear to the door.

Dark withdrew from that part of his mind. He looked around himself, to find bodies everywhere, some cut by a blade, others battered into death, if the bruises on his hands came from what he thought they'd done to these people.

Nausea rolled in his gut, more from the fact of what he'd done, than an actual response to the gore around him. He'd always been unphased by blood and bone.

No sense in dwelling on it. He had to move on. His clothes were ruined. Dark rubbed the blood off his face thoughtfully, and started looking for a body about his size. Eventually he found one, stripped the body, and magicked the blood and dirt out of his new clothes. His clothes were not salvageable. At least his shoes were in acceptable condition.

Where was he? He looked around, and found a road leading to the highway, following his instincts rather than trying to access the memories of what he'd done.

Following the road back to where the caravan had been attacked was easy, the burnt out shells of the wagons left discarded and soot black.

They'd already left. And Rick's sword was thrust into the ground, his coin pouch hanging from the hilt.

No. It couldn't be – the world could not exist without him, couldn't it? Rick was steady as a rock, the very foundation of Dark's life. Shaking hands opened the pouch, trailing his blood-encrusted fingers over the broken coin, the half image of the falcon stamped on the silver disk. Coins were old and outdated in Hyrule, the pieces of colored quartz called rupees had long replaced little bits of metal as currency. These kinds of coins were only produced for the army now. Rick would never leave such essential equipment behind.

Dead.

Well. That was that. The only reason he'd stuck around was gone and buried. Dark had never wanted to be a soldier. He'd never wanted to kill. Maybe the Monster liked it, but they were different – he never took pleasure in it.

If Dark had been a better person, a better son, he would have returned to Patcheem for his parents. But no, for all he'd been a cherished only child, he'd always felt strangely aloof from his parents, all four of them. Sometimes he wondered what traits he'd gotten from his bloodparents, if any, besides the birthmark on his leg from his bloodfather, and his mother's dimples.

Free. Freed from expectations in the worst fashion possible, but freed nonetheless.

War was coming, he knew it was inevitable, and Dark wanted no part of it. The best way to go was Southernmost, and Lake Hylia was said to be a place of great bounty, the fields and woods rich, the waters crisp and impossibly pure. He could make a living there, through hard work and deft hands. And surely a timesense could be useful in some way.

Carrying a weapon would attract unnecessary attention. Selling it would be just as bad – it was clearly of military make, and Northern at that. He'd make do with a belt knife. In the rubble of a burnt wagon he found a slightly dented canteen that didn't leak, and a survival pack that was half-burnt. The surviving soldiers and trainees (for the civilians had long left the caravan at the stop in Waysken) had picked the site clean of any valuables. Nevertheless, Dark was able to find a decently sized piece of canvas that was neither burnt nor torn, as well as a frayed length of rope and an iron spike that could be used as a weapon and had probably once been part of an axle. It was also fortunate that his boots – bloody they might be – had escaped the battle completely unharmed.

Enough. He could pay his way to Lake Hylia through labor, and eke out a future on the lake shore.

What exactly he would become was unknown, but Dark was determined that whatever might come, from now on he wouldn't be a soldier.

* * *

Nabooru sat at the King's desk, laboring over the ledgers that recorded the exports and imports of the Fortress's last month of business. Glass production was down, but a surplus of barley had led to a drop in grain prices throughout Drought Country, so a thin profit was carefully maintained.

There was no news from her son, not for months. The King had promised her Link would be safe.

She reached up to rub at her forehead, and wondered when the lines there had been etched so deeply.

* * *

It had been a long time since the sound of heavy boots tread on that golden threshold.

"Hello, Ladies!" Anasi said cheerfully from the graceful open door of the Sacred Citadel. Nayru's blonde head shot up, a look of horror spreading across her lovely features. Din frowned, and Farore sighed from where she'd been manipulating pawn pieces on the World table. "It's been so long. Ages, really. Have you missed me?"

"You!" Nayru said, and Anasi smiled.

"Me." He replied, flinging himself onto a silk divan and stretching luxuriously, mindless of the mud and dirt on his patched traveling clothes. "I see you have a game in the planning. I had thought so. Playing with politics this time, hmmn? From what I hear, there's a revolution in the brewing. And _that_, my lovelies, was not in our little agreement."

"You continually alter your pacts with the Saints. We have no choice but to comply with your wishes." Din said smoothly, pouring the man a mug of _Kalika_ from a pitcher. He took it and drank deeply, the long vulnerable line of his throat exposed, his awkward adam's apple bobbing with each gulp.

"Ah!" He smacked his lips in appreciation. "What is this? How unique. Is it a native drink?"

"This is _Kalika_, my lord. The Gerudo women created it." Din answered, raising an eyebrow at Farore's tense expression.

"Ha. From the legend of Kolyaru, correct?"

"That is a Gerudo folktale, yes." Din's curiously-hued eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where did you enter the country?"

"Northeast. Through the Antreides Range. What you Azavairans call the Curled Backbones."

"There are no Gerudo in those lands. You entered the Sacred Realm by way of the High Temple in the Capitol, did you not?" The dark-skinned Goddess probed, and Anasi's smile widened into a smirk.

"Still the only one using or losing their head, well, Din?"

"As cryptic as ever, my Lord." She returned coolly.

"Enough chit-chat, friends." Anasi said, his youthful face losing its pleasant expression. "Where is the harmony you promised those five thousand years ago? Where is the deft manipulation of events? The watchers who read our deeds even now, they must be satisfied. The story is spiraling out of control – where are the champions, the clear lines of morality? Where, tell me, is the villain and the hero? Perhaps you thought the end was in sight, yet eternally out of reach. You seem, my lovely ladies, to have lost what little knack you once possessed in the realms of epic history. I am sorely disappointed in you." He sighed and leaned into the plush cushions of the divan, taking a long draught of _Kalika_. "You had such… _promise_. I invested an entire country, and look what you have done with it! Not much! Why, in Eastland there are such things as paved roads that stretch from border to border, and lightning harnessed through wires to do the work of magic. In the Frostlands Colossals roam the glacierlands, carving castles out of blue ice. In Idre and Ybol Changelings hunt for hundreds of miles on end. The unrivaled Ansalian Empire has swallowed the Continent but for the Barriered-lands of Azavaire and Eastland. What is this place compared to that?"

"What would you have us do?" Farore demanded, fists white-knuckled.

"Rally your champions." The Mad God said simply, folding his hands and leaning onto his knees. "Draw the lines. Revolution is well and glorious, but sometimes the peasants get it into their heads that they are in control of the situation, and by my wits!, try to do something new. That cannot be allowed. The story must remain pure. That is all that matters."

"Then that is what we will do." Nayru said softly, bowing her head. "We thank you for your guidance."

"But of course." Anasi dismissed with a flick of his hand.

"When will we see you next?" Farore queried gently, and the God smiled ruefully.

"Oho! Who said I was going anywhere? Why, we've not even begun to build towards the climax! Oh no, I am staying here, with you. I shall need my own room, of course. An endless room is useful, but not for privacy."

"We never have such problems." Din said.

"Ah, but you are women. Men need time to themselves. As God, it is necessary to keep some secrets. And I certainly wouldn't you ladies to get any sentimental feelings about my visit, no, not at all." Farore opened her mouth to say something but Anasi held up a hand to silence her. "No, hear me. My word is final, as it should. A second room, if you please."

"Yes, my God." The women replied, bowing their heads as one.

A second room was created, even finer and more lavishly decorated than the first. Soon the Mad God was firmly settled, and the Goddesses rushed to prepare their meetings with their chosen champions.

Little did they know that the next forty days would alter those plans by a significant margin.

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End of Part Three.

Next to come is Part Four: Forty Days.

I really like reviews! I hope the long update time hasn't scared anyone away!


	46. Forty Days

So it's been weeks since I last posted! Darn site wouldn't let me access this fic for a week and a half! Grrr. Warning: long chapter is long. From now on, all personal notes about myself will be posted at the end of the chapter along with author's notes. Please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five: Forty Days**

One more time and you'll be dead  
At least I think that's what they said  
_Forty days won't break a man_

It was a bullet in his head…

Listen while I load my gun,  
He said to me.  
Something 'bout a chosen one  
It's comin' back to me…  
Watch him while I taste the sun,  
He said to me…  
_Something 'bout a chosen one  
You'll never be._

~revolution man, union underground

Border line,  
Dead inside.  
I don't mind,  
Falling to pieces.  
Count me in, violent  
Let's begin, feeding the sickness.  
How do I simplify?  
Dislocate - the enemy's on the way.

~ unknown soldier, breaking Benjamin

* * *

More and more, Zelda began to rely on exhausting herself with Impa's Sheikah maiden dance patterns, to help her sleep deeply and dreamlessly.

When she dreamed, she saw storm clouds to the south, building and churning and never dissipating nor letting loose rain.

When she dreamed she saw a fire in the north, devouring a city of black roofs and watchtowers so quickly that the warlike citizens smothered in their sleep.

When she dreamed, she saw the clouds in the south roll aside for a green light that came from the depths of the forest, making for the north like a thrown dagger.

When she dreamed, Zelda, crown princess of Hyrule, saw a laughing man who ripped asunder the heavens, and threw three shining women down from the stars, down into the mud of the mortal world, if they would not play his games.

She began to dread nightfall.

* * *

"Cadet Keen!" Came the harsh rebuke from Captain Lawful. Keen didn't startle, merely tightened the straps further on his canvas pack. "What is important enough to break curfew? Return to your assigned tent and rest until dawn!"

Keen lifted his chin, meeting his superior's eyes squarely.

"As my bond-mate has passed, and my clan prefers me to leave them well alone, I request permission to head towards the front and end my life with honor. Sir."

Lawful snorted.

"That's just like you, isn't it." He said flatly, assessing the young man as if for the first time.

"Sir?" Keen could not keep his voice from wavering.

"You'd go off to die, because you are disliked?"

"Dislike is a mild way of putting it, sir. When Dark was still alive, even then the chance a pair of girls back home might wed us was unlikely. No widowed man would choose to repartner with me. My clan has more important things to care for than me. It would-" Keen swallowed, and let any hope for a different life die. "It would better for everyone if I went to the Front. I could join a normal troop, maybe make a difference. Maybe not. I'd never darken Patcheem's door again, sir."

"Then off with you." Lawful said roughly, nodding, brown eyes calculating. "Sleep. I will draw up the papers for transfer to a troop in the general army. You will be traveling alone – we cannot spare any manpower. I will pay for a leyline message to be sent from Crimen, and you will follow my orders until you rendezvous with your new assignment, whichever it might be."

"Yessir." Keen saluted sharply, and returned to the two-man tent he had shared with Dark, who had left him for the underworld.

_If Link can do it, so can I.

* * *

_

The road to Crimen was long and dusty in the slowly-lengthening days of the early Seventh month. But Keen was used to walking all day, his pack heavy and unlightened by magic, a spare set of steel-shod boots with their laces tied together hung around his neck, tapping gently against his chest as he strode down the highway that led through the Lakeland Province. To keep himself entertained, he mentally brought up the maps of Southern Hyrule that he'd memorized when he'd got the chance. He'd only seen them twice, but once was enough to remember.

From the encampment located between Parchen and Longstead, Keen had journeyed south and east, the landscape changing from dry heat, rocky-soiled and grassy, to thick, humid heat, vegetation greener and more abundant.

There was a leyline message station in farm-fenced Giphram in southeasterly Drought Country, and Keen had dutifully sent his twenty-rupee message to the army dispatch center in Crimen.

He had spent the nights previous on a bedroll under the stars, but the very night before reaching Crimen he had slept in a barn which belonged to the Sand Cat Estates, a tidy, thriving little community that earned its wealth through an amber fruit orchard.

Now the wind turned, blowing fresh cedar sap and city-smoke into Keen's face. The mud-brick and timber walls of Crimen rose from a fragrant stand of cedar forest. It was not as big as Mudwater, but larger than Parchen. Four evenly placed wooden towers rose from the top of the wall, flying the banners of Hyrule, Lakeland Province, and the cedar and arrow of Crimen's coat-of-arms. A fourth flag flapped gingerly, bearing a teal open circle within the red lines of a triangle, military code for _beware, civil unrest likely_. With the situation in the South as it was, with rebellion spreading like wildfire, the gated cities would lock down and require documentation for any stranger attempting to enter. They had probably put that into motion a fortnight or so ago.

The road led to the northern gate of the city, and Keen got into the line of travelers seeking entrance to the city.

"Papers! And your travelling visa, boy." The sallow, mustached guard said impatiently, and took some time examining the cadet's papers. before waving him along. "Acceptable." He allowed, shoving the papers into Keen's outstretched hand. "Next!"

"I'm to meet a troop in the dispatch center." Keen said quietly, "What quarter of the city is it located?"

"Hennak District. Between this gate and the Southwestern one. Move along, and make no trouble. There's enough of it in the east for the entire country. Next!" The guard bellowed at the next traveler in line, a tired-looking girl with two grubby children in tow. She looked rather overwhelmed at the guard's volume and apparent temper, and also, alarmingly, close to tears. The guard scowled when she produced only one travel visa.

"I see yours. The children need their own."

"But I checked with my village's official – he said children under ten need no papers!" She protested, all scrawny limbs and lank chestnut hair.

"That was before an eight-year old successfully carried out a suicide attack a week ago." The guard barked.

"We left my village two weeks ago. How could I know?" She pleaded, tears running through the dust caked on her cheeks. The small girl clutching the young woman's skirt turned her face away from the man.

"Refugees!" The guard said with disgust. "There's no room in the city for your lot."

"I- my aunt will take us in…" The girl tried, wilting.

"Bess, I'm hungry!" The little boy - who'd attached himself to the girl's waist - said wretchedly, all fat cheeks and blue eyes.

Enough.

"How much?" Keen asked conversationally, walking over to the guard.

"What?" The man looked surprised and suspicious.

"How much do I need to give you to let them into the city? I'll make sure they cause no trouble and reach the house of their relatives. On my honor." He vowed, inwardly disgusted with the man's callousness.

"Fifty." The guard said.

"Thirty-eight." Keen countered.

"Fourty-five."

"Will this do?" He handed over his second-best whet-stone, the one he had spent a year saving up earnings from odd jobs to buy. His finest had been a present from Dark on his naming day, and he wouldn't give it up for anything now. "It's worth forty-two."

The guard took his time examining the stone, even sharpening his belt knife on it to test its quality. With a smile, the man pocketed the whetstone.

"Done and done. Move along, woman." The guard said sharply to the girl Bess, "Next!"

Keen took the girl's hand gently. The two children watched him suspiciously.

"Come with me. I'll see you to your aunt's household."

"Th-thank you, very much sir." She said, "Only – who are you?"

"Private Ferrick Keen, miss."

"I'm Bessandra," She did a sloppy curtsy, her skirt tattered and worn. "This lad here is Geoff, and this is Sara."

"A pleasure. Now, where am I taking you?" Keen had made good time on his journey, but he only had an hour before it was time to meet his new company of soldiers.

The girl bit her lip, thinking.

"My aunt Geranda Hallen lives in the easternmost district."

"Have you been to Crimen before? I have not."

"Oh! I have, some years ago. Please, I know the way."

"Well then, Miss, show the way." Bessandra nodded, and they walked into the city, herding the two younger children between them.

It took some time to reach the house, and then Bess's aunt had to fuss over the children when they arrived, and properly thank Keen.

"Refugee!" She huffed, "My own nieces and nephew! War in the South! What is the world coming to, that Imally rebels turn honest people out of their own homes for supporting the King?" She didn't mention the glaring absence of the three children's parents, nor the haunted looks in their eyes. "It's good that there was a _proper soldier_ to look after my lovelies, why, the only one who does their duty proper and quiet, I'll bet."

"Thank you," Keen coughed, then added "But I really must leave, Madam Hallen. My troop is expecting me."

Eventually she let him go, but not before bestowing food and a small purse of rupees on him. Free now, he dashed pell-mell across the city to the dispatch center in Hennak District.

He signed his name in at the clerk's table at the entrance of the dispatch, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the stitch in his side. He scanned the paper leaflet set aside for him, detailing his new assignment in sloppy scribe's script.

He would serve under Captain Tamaren Allen, and Lieutenant Alberd Neras, in the Falcon's Sixteenth Division of the Royal Hylian Army. Which meant he would be serving with men given about six months training, originally civilian volunteers, footmen who didn't specialize in any particular form, but were likely trained in bow, sword, and pike.

Once past the clerk's station, the center opened into a large room filled with tables and soldiers in their grey-blue uniforms. There were several open doors that led to smaller rooms lined with wooden bunk beds.

A few questions led Keen to a group of tables in the corner by a window, where the troops lounged, throwing dice.

"You're half an hour late, boy." Captain Allen said coldly. He was tall and bulky, round-faced but not fat. Keen saluted him quietly, spine straight.

"I was helping some refugees from Fanna relocate, sir. They were children."

Allen scanned the young man critically, hard brown eyes dully assessing.

"You know your priorities, I'll give you that. Next time report in to me and then allow them to relocate. You may sit, private."

"Sir." Keen agreed, and sat in the empty chair next to a handsome man whose natural expression seemed to be a dour frown, fog grey eyes sharp under pale blonde eyebrows.

"So you are the one replacing Neras and Orlo?" The man asked, brow furrowing. "You don't look like a soldier worth two others."

"Ah, but looks can be deceiving, Muiren!" A youthful man with curly black hair replied cheerfully, then turned to Keen. "Tell us about yourself, greenhorn!"

"I'm Ferrick Keen. Trained in Patcheem."

"That bed of sin?" Another soldier queried, the sigil of the Triforce tattooed on his neck.

"Oh, hush, Gonar." The curly-haired man defended, "There's nothing wrong with liking men. Say, you're judging him before you've even introduced yourselves! Religion is supposed to give a man manners, not make him all high and mighty. I may as well introduce everyone, I suppose. I'm Buren Talla. This is Muiren-" Talla gestured to the frowning blonde man, "The devoted pompadoodle is Gonar. Then there's Entut, who's getting the drinks - he snores like you wouldn't believe, and Hest, who's a dab hand at illusions and tales around the fire. Rana's our sharp-shooter, the walking bull is Eller, Benlar's the medic, and that's the ill-tempered Wask." Talla winked at Keen, "He thinks he ought to be running the show. I suppose we'll see."

Keen's mouth quirked at Talla's chipper tone, but he did not smile.

"It will be a pleasure serving with you all." He said with a nod to each of his new companions.

Broad-nosed Entut arrived carrying two trays filled with earthen mugs, which were dully passed around. Keen took a cautious sip – but it was only cider.

"Where are we headed? To the front?" He asked Muiren, who was scowling at the other men, who'd returned to their game of dice.

"T'will be supply transport. We're to protect mage-blasts and basic rations, from Crimen to Briarsedge in Imally."

Keen raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That's deep in rebel territory." He commented.

"We're likely doomed." Muiren said with a faint flicker of a smile. "Not that I wasn't surprised we were assigned this. Captain Allen has not made many allies among those in our chain of command."

"How wonderful for us." Keen said with a reckless grin. Muiren blinked slowly.

"Are you serious, truly?" He wondered.

"We will see action with the enemy soon. What's not to like?"

"I'd heard the best soldiers and officers come from Patcheem." Muiren commented, "They didn't say Patcheem soldiers were daft in the head. Typical." He added with a scoff, and drained the mug of cider.

"Only the good ones, Private Muiren." Keen replied, smiling wistfully.

* * *

Warm hands twined into Ganondorf's short-cropped hair, and he sighed in pleasure. He let the feel of those calloused hands caress his head and neck for a long moment before opening his amber eyes. It was still late in the night, the stars hidden, the moonslight enough to illuminate the woman who had somehow slipped into his bed without waking him.

She was beautiful, raw and realer than reality, in a way Naotu had never been. Where his traitorous lover had been golden, this woman was black as bitter coffee from Rainfall Province, her hair coarse, inky and cropped short instead of long, silky and copper. The woman's nose was flat and broad, her lips wide and rosy pink.

Ganondorf pulled away from this woman to see her better. She was naked and tall, only a head shorter than he, her shoulders broad, her limbs muscular and well shaped, her hands large and skillful.

"King Ganondorf of the Gerudo," she breathed, and he frowned.

"Do I know you, my lady?" He queried, and the woman laughed, her voice dark and husky.

"You know me. I was there when your mothers both laid with the disguised brother of the elf king, and their wombs quickened after they killed him. I watched over them in the turmoil that followed in wake of the Prince's disappearance. I was with you when you and your twin sickened a fortnight after your birth. I was there when you alone survived, and your mothers cut their hair and wailed. When the Hylian soldier tried to drown you as a child. When you fasted in the desert before entering the King's Ordeal. When you were crowned, and our people rejoiced. I was there," She said, sneering now, "When you devoted yourself to that traitor servant, that selfish and cruel harpy, and I was there even when she left and you despaired. I wished to comfort you then, but I could only watch." Her rough hand soothed the lines of his brow, gentling. "I was with you when you learned patience from your daughter. When the arrow aimed for your heart missed by an inch. I saw how you longed for peace as I did thousands of years ago, before the creation of this land of Azavaire. I was there when you grieved, and vowed vengeance for everything the elvish scum took from you and our people. I watched as you won the hearts of the same men you once stole from. I watch as you move towards taking the throne that is rightfully yours. And now I am with you, in more than merely spirit."

Ganondorf drew a shaky breath, which only damned him further, taking in the sweat and sweet musk of her, of mingled intoxication and toil. For all he was lover and consort of every Gerudo woman, he was stricken by how wide and strong her hips were, how heavy and full her breasts were, the long, regal length of her neck, and the straightness of her white teeth when she smiled.

"And what will you do, now that you are here and I know you?" He questioned softly, stroking her arm with the ball of his thumb as they lay together on the length of the lush Hylian bed, with its feather mattress and thick blankets.

"I will help you in any way I can, for you are the only man I have ever loved." She vowed.

"And what will you bring with you that I do not already possess?"

"Power," She said in dark amusement, "Beyond mortal reckoning. And the knowledge of how to end the Endless Cataclysm once and for all."

"Well," he breathed, smiling now, "I think, under such generous terms, I would be a fool to turn away such a lady. I know you. You are Din."

Din kissed him long and slow, jasper eyes hooded. Ganondorf brought his hand up to stroke through her hair, and they did not speak until the sun had risen.

"Yes," She replied, hours later, satiation in every line and curve of her body, "I am."

The light of dawn painted her in gold and orange, striking such hope and confidence into the Gerudo King as had not been felt in many years.

* * *

The Falcon's Sixteenth marched east from Crimen two days after Keen had reached them, rolling ever forward towards the Imally front. The troop slept in three-man tents – Keen with Talla and Muiren.

The days were long, filled with sweat, golden grass, loose soil, and the bombed out remains of houses and barns that had been mage-blasted, the grim sooty faces of villagers who had refused to leave their homes for the safety of the west and the North, and chosen to remain in the war zone where the line of the Front passed through, here rebels expanding outwards, the next week recaptured by the Royal army. For now, the rebels had retreated behind the border of Imally. But they'd be back.

The evenings were spent talking quietly with his new companions, who were curious about life as a Patcheem native. Talla was ever enthusiastic, full of ambition and dreams bigger than his slight frame. Walden Muiren was surprisingly easy to talk to, for all his gloomy outlook on life. Hest kept everyone laughing with the outrageous tall-tales he spun for his fellow soldier. Smek couldn't stop talking about the fiancée he'd left in Mudwater. Other than that, the other six all blended into each other in Keen' mind. Captain Allen was all sharp edges, abrasive, strict, and domineering, for all that he favored Keen's crisp obedience and competency. The men did not respect him, but the Captain didn't notice. Yet again Keen found himself marveling at the reality of a non-Patcheem officer. Surely there had to be a superior who was both competent and civilian born, but in Keen's short life, he'd not met one yet.

The nights…

Keen spent his nights carefully forgetting the bodies that were piled on the sides of the roads, Royal blue-grey, rebel forest green uniformed corpses embracing together in death as they had not in life. Even those thoughts were more welcome than the memories of a double bedroll, of being able to reach out and touch, and be touched in return. That was what he missed, more than thin lips smiling, of curious blood-brown eyes watching rapt or even long-suffering. _Forget_ the name, dash it out of his mind. Keen took those steely thoughts and tried to scrub his heart raw with them. Tears could wash the residue of his bond-mate from his heart, so long as they came in darkness or in solitude.

Mornings were loose and warm, early and clear. His body knew what to do, even if his soul did not. It kept on living.

* * *

Zelda dreamt uneasily.

Somewhere she had read an account of Frinan of Jesua, a Seer, who had once said the ability to prophecy was a curse, not to be welcomed. She hadn't understood then, thinking that if she knew the future, she could change it, prepare for what was to come.

Now she knew better. For with each dream came the certainty that it _would_ come to pass, and the despair of knowing ultimately, how very little she knew or could do.

Somewhere out there, there was Link, golden and red as any flame, bringing light to shadows and dark corners of the kingdom. Dreams of him were ever elusive, what little she saw was spent side-by-side with a witch with clever hands. Far more frequent were the ones of two other boys, no – men.

The dark one, slow and ponderous as a snow-swollen river, but relentless, unstoppable.

The golden one, who smiled during the day, and hunted in the dark. Each time she saw him her mind cried out in recognition and soul-rending disgust, of something noble torn asunder and mopped with bile and blood. There was something of a predator in him, she thought.

Last of all, she dreamed of an _old/young_ man, hair in disarray and neat, mincing ways. He laughed at the world until it turned its back on him, and then in anger he tore it to pieces, pulling stars from the sky and mountains from the earth, eyes burning and black.

That night, however, she slept easily and deeply.

A wind blew through the windows, which had been opened to let the scent of spring in from the courtyard garden. In the moonslight a wispy shape resolved itself into a pale woman in a glittering blue robe, her hair as bright and fair as starlight.

This woman walked over to look at the Hylian Princess, slippered feet too quiet to be noticed in the next room over, where Impa slept dutifully. A little brown and black tabby cat looked up from her place, where she'd been curled behind the crook of her mistress's legs, ears perked and green eyes bright. Upon seeing the trespasser, she hissed, ears flattening, and fled from the room, tail bushy with fright.

Nayru whispered a silencing spell on the chamber, then nudged the girl awake.

"Awake, Princess Zelda, for I have good news for you, at last."

Zelda squirmed sleepily, golden waves of hair splayed every which way across her down-stuffed pillow.

"Mmmn, wha-?" Then she pulled her blankets over her head.

Nayru shook her awake, impatient. Zelda jerked up, eyes wide and dark with surprise.

"Who…?" The Princess's eyes finally registered the Goddess. "You must be Nayru," she whispered, "I'd recognize you anywhere."

"I am indeed, young Princess." The woman said smugly. "I have come to warn you of the coming Cataclysm. It has already begun, and I have chosen you as my champion."

"Why me?" Zelda demanded, forgetting etiquette. "I may be smart, but I'm not wise. There are others with more power, more courage, more influence."

"You would be surprised, my dear girl. You remind me of one of my favorites, oh so many years ago."

"Who was that, my Lady?" She asked meekly, smoothing her lilac silk pajamas.

"Harkinian himself. No-" And here Nayru held up a hand to stop Zelda's protests, "I say this because you want more than is your lot in life, and already you have set out to accomplish that very goal. But why settle with choosing the next King, the man who you will marry? Why not rule as Queen? Think, Zelda, you have the wits and poise to do it. What do you want, more than anything?"

"Peace." Zelda said without hesitation. "And the ability to choose my own life."

"Then swear yourself to me, Hylian Princess, descendant and heir to Harkinian the Great." Zelda obeyed, slipping out from under her covers and kneeling on the carpet. The girl bowed her head and kissed Nayru's slippered feet.

"I swear," She vowed, "To uphold you, to act in your name. To become wise."

"And in return I will bless you. Your wits will grow sharper, your mind untiring."

"Only, please, take away my dreams. I've no wish to be a Seer."

"It is a blessing. Why would you throw such an advantage?"

"I cannot plan successfully if my nights haunt me through the day. I don't want to see the River Man, the Hunter and the Laughing Man."

"If I can make it so you dream but will not be shaken by it, will you accept it?"

"Yes." Zelda said, chin raised stubbornly, green eyes glinting.

"Then," And Nayru brushed the tips of her fingers across the girl's forehead, "It is done. Farore's champion will come for you, and together you will bring a new era of glory to Hyrule."

"So be it." Zelda prayed, closing her eyes. When there was silence, she looked once more

Nayru was gone, the sound of leaves rustling in the night breeze the only sound to hear.

* * *

Explosions sounded from every side, dirt spraying everywhere, smoke thick in the men's throats. The supply caravan was under attack, not twenty miles past Slainway.

Keen and Muiren ducked just as the enemy crossbows fired, a line of bolts striking the wagon just overhead. The men scrambled to slide on shields and draw their swords.

A second volley struck Private Entut in the throat. At the head of the wagon line Captain Allen shouted orders for a return fire. The bows were kept at the end, too far for the soldiers to reach in time.

"Use the mage blasts in the wagon!" Keen hollered, "The archers are in the trees, at fourteen o' clock!"

Muiren grabbed an armful of the small cloth sacks filled with explosives and the detonating vial, distributing them amongst Eller, Talla, Gonar, and Rana.

"On my count. Crush them on five, then throw on zero." Keen ordered, a bolt bouncing off his raised shield.

"Throw them yourself!" Gonar yelled.

"I've no magic to activate them. Gonar, use your wind magic to aim the blasts! That's an order!"

"I'm not taking any-"

"You're going to _get us killed!_ And I don't want to die like this! Just _do it! _On my count! Ten, nine, eight, seven, six- FIVE-" He saw them crush the sacks, breaking the glass vial that held the slow-acting detonation fluid. "Four, three, two, ONE, THROW THEM NOW!" Keen screamed, letting his voice snap out the words.

Gonar threw his, as did the others, and the man stretched out his hands, grunting with exertion as a stiff gale swept the mage-blasts directly at the stand of trees where the rebel archers were taking shelter. A split second later there was an all-mighty bang, fire and smoke sending splintered wood everywhere, and bits of gore and bone splattering onto the hard packed earth.

Within minutes, Captain Allen and the other men had taken out the survivors of the blast, killing them quickly. He approached Keen and his five fellow soldiers. Face an ugly purple color, Allen looked ready to spit.

"When I give you an order, you follow it." He said stiffly to the line of unrepentant men.

"So it's choosing obedience or death, now?" Muiren murmured uneasily to Keen, then he self-consciously straightened when Allen trained a beady gaze on him.

"Nevertheless… Keen you've done better than Lieutenant Neras had. A true replacement. Consider yourself promoted."

Keen nodded, not entirely surprised, as he'd been meant to replace the former lieutenant _and _a private.

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

Captain Allen nodded back, stiffly pleased.

"Good. Good. Great Goddesses, let's get those shits buried, huh? And then we'll move on."

"_Sir!_" The men chorused, and went to get the spades from the second wagon.

* * *

"So how goes it?" Kattala asked, interrupting Link's training in the manor courtyard.

"I'm getting better." He replied, lowering his Hylian sword to wipe the perspiration from his brow. His scimitar had been meant for right-handed use – the straight sword was easier on left-handed fighting.

"Ah. That's all well."

"How is the project?"

"It's coming. Slow going, it is." She added drily.

"Ah. Good." Link said distractedly. Kattala snorted.

"You've got to get out of here, Link. You're not one as to stay in one place doing nothing, hmm?"

"I suppose. No." He said idly, then snapped into attention as he registered her words. "Yes, you're right. But you'll miss me, right?"

"Of course I will, as certain as the sunrise. But I know you now – and you're happiest when there's something as to put your energy and charm into. You're not meant for a sleepy little mountain town like Kakariko."

"Neither are you, Kat, but you won't listen to me. You should be going around teaching people to tend the dead, but you stay here despite that."

"You're a right nag, sometimes."

Link shrugged.

"Someone has to be."

* * *

The next time the Falcon's Sixteenth had to dig graves, it was for Talla, and Captain Allen.

"That's Talla buried," Hest said heavily, throwing down a branch of lilac on the disturbed earth, "He always wanted to be a hero, the poor bastard."

"At least he died one." Blabbermouth Smek said, "Took eight arrows to the chest before he fell, and protecting Captain Allen like that, too."

Keen had to turn his face away from the men, recalling how he'd tried to run over and warn Talla of the archers up on the bluff the rebels had claimed. His opponent had been unusually skilled, and Keen had not reached his comrades in time.

"It's not your fault. But you're the captain now, lieutenant." Muiren said, laying a dirty hand on Keen's shoulder.

Wask, the troop's strategist, scowled as he pinned the Captain's red feather badge over Keen's heart.

"It should have been me wearing this." He said "They promoted Neras instead. I was in line for lieutenant until you came along."

"Oh shut up, you creaking whiner." Rana snapped, uncharacteristically verbose for such a quiet man. "You're good at plans but not at leading. We don't need an officer who does naught but complain."

Wask looked like he might argue, but then Gonar, who was the troop's equivalent of a priest, stood up from where he'd been murmuring a blessing over the graves, and beat the earth from his knees.

"Who will be lieutenant now, Captain Keen?" Gonar asked softly in a subdued voice.

"Not Wask?" Strange, distant-mannered Benlar asked hopefully and rather rudely. Wask went an ugly color.

"That's enough, Private Benlar." Keen reprimanded. "No. Walden Muiren will be our lieutenant." He said decisively, and only Eller and Wask looked disappointed. "He's competent, quick, and I'd be willing to follow him, if it came down to it. Is that acceptable?"

There was a chorus of murmured _yes_es, and Eller shook his head.

"You're the Captain, Keen."

"Right." He removed the round lieutenant's badge from his collar and pinned it on Muiren. Keen stepped away, readjusted his belt a little, then stood straighter. "We've wasted enough time here. Briarsedge is two days away. There are no towns between here and our destination. We'll have to move quickly to avoid rebel notice. Come, Eller, Rana, Benlar. Wask, Smek, Hest, Gonar. Lieutenant Muiren. We move out."

* * *

With a little help from Hest's illusion magic, Smek's night vision abilities, and a liberal dosing of Muiren's inherent luck, the Falcon's Sixteenth managed to sneak past several rebel scouting parties, and made it safely to Briarsedge.

The wagons were unloaded, the black powder to go to Sideland, the mage-blasts directly to the siege of the heavily-armed city of Imally, and the rations divvied out to every troop departing from Briarsedge.

On the second day of the Falcon's Sixteenth's stay in Briarsedge, Keen was formally promoted to Captain by one of the generals stationed in the barracks, in front of his men.

"You've done well so far," General Justice of the Wolf Tooth clan said skeptically, "Most caravans have not made it, and traveled the same route as your troop has. Done quite well, yes. I think… hmm, that you are up for what I have in mind. I'll send you into the heart of enemy territory. There is a newly discovered pyrite mine in Geraint, and it will be vital to the rebel force's ammunition. Imally is developing cannons of their own. They've only to find out the formula for saltpeter, and they'll no longer need to steal our black powder."

"We'll go, Sir." Keen agreed, saluting, "But give me ten days to train my men. They are not used to Patcheem officers, or Patcheem standards."

"Granted," The General said approvingly, "I hail from that town as well. Where is your bondmate?" The man inquired, eyeing the nine of Keen's men, "It's Muiren, wasn't it?"

"No sir, though my Lieutenant is like a brother to me. My bondmate was Darken of the Weaver clan. He…" Keen swallowed hard. "He fell. There was an ambush several days past Parchen."

The General's hard eyes softened substantially.

"Then perhaps it is best you go on this mission, young Captain, after all." He said gently, eyes knowing. "Train your men until they meet your standards. You may have three weeks. Carry out your mission to the end, and go with honor."

"It is that kind of mission, Sir?"

"Hm. Very likely, yes. Unless you are all I think you are, you will likely not return. Does that comfort you?"

Keen's eyes, blue-grey with the gold rings around his pupils, widened. He felt quite suddenly aware of his men behind him. He didn't doubt that they could hear every word of the conversation.

"For myself, on my part, yes. But I have to think of those under me as well, Sir."

"They know." General Justice said with a nod. "I've heard of Captain Allen, and of what kind of man, no, what leader that he was. They've known longer than you have of what their fate will be. It is the lot of those good enough to carry out such missions – good but not so good as to hold behind the lines. Go, Captain Keen. May your mission be completed well."

* * *

"Why?" Muiren asked when Keen entered the small room that had been set aside for the two officers of the Sixteenth. Keen didn't pause, stripping down to his underclothes. He'd scrubbed off thoroughly in the bath room, now free from all the sweat and caked on red Southern soil earned from a long day of training his men - since the break of dawn – his skin was pink and raw from the rough lye soap provided for the soldiers in the barracks.

"Why what, Wald?" He queried, pulling a nightshirt on and climbing into the narrow cot that was his bed.

"Why do you seek death?" Walden Muiren ran curled fingers through his pale blonde hair, causing it to stand on end. The result, wet after a bath taken earlier, was very close to the image of a disgruntled albino hedgehog.

"Death?" Keen repeated, amused. "I do not seek death, but honor."

"Honor? Are you deluding yourself? You're no knight of the Crown." Muiren said disdainfully. Keen grinned. Muiren frowned back, apparently not pleased with this reaction.

"There is a difference, between a knight's honor and that of a soldier. You may believe it, or you may not."

"And what, pray tell, is the difference, Keen?" Muiren's handsome face was skeptically curious.

"A knight seeks honor by glorifying his own name and that of his Lord and the King. They're essentially rather flashy creatures, knights. All titles, shiny armor, brightly painted shields, fancy horses, lady loves and their tokens, grand pronouncements and courtly behavior. Now, soldiers – even officers, Muiren – we seek honor through work. A good soldier obeys his orders, puts in the effort, gets things done. He only disobeys if there's a less costly way to achieve the objective."

"Like with the mage-blasts…"

"Yes, like that."

"Why train us, then? Why work from dawn to dusk, when you expect to die despite it all?"

"Knights can die nobly, even their deaths are told in song. They can die martyrs. But a soldier? A soldier is only a number, Wald. It takes something extra to become a hero if you've no title or lady love to your name. I'll be damned if I let you all die for someone's stupidity."

* * *

"Quick," Dark said urgently, as the heavily pregnant mare grunted in distress, contractions gripping her swollen belly, "Run and get the healer. Tell her that Master Hellas's mare is laboring a breech birth."

The other stableboy nodded, dashing out of the stable and into the warmth of the Wickment spring night, a town on the northwestern shore of Lake Hylia, a few leagues from Kelyeso. The fastest way was through the graveyard – and Dark did his best to avoid such places, because then, the demons and ghosts would wake, try to catch his attention and force him to acknowledge them. It made the Monster angry, made him mutter foul, dour things about demons and possessions and _damnit, Mia, where are you?s_. It also made the Dreamer angry, but melancholy, and he would sit there behind the door, his brooding silence as noisy as a scream. No, best to steer clear of the dead.

Dark wiped sweaty hands on his rough breeches and turned his attention back to the mare. The man who'd hired him, the stablemaster, had long left for the local tavern, to his ale and games. The mare had been expected to foal in a week – what was happening tonight was much too early.

The single back leg poked through the mare's birth canal, slimy and slick. The mare gave another groaning whuffle, straining.

Dark continued to hover, mind ticking furiously as he waited. The healer's house was a five-minute walk away, give or take twenty-seven seconds – and surely even a woman in her nineties could manage a bit of a trot to the other side of the town, right?

Twenty-eight and a half minutes exactly was when he realized he would have to do something on his own. Dark made the sigil of the Triforce on his forehead with his thumb, thought a prayer to Farore for courage, and reached into the horse's body to turn the foal's body in the womb.

Thirteen minutes later, with a little creative positioning and some helpful pulling, the foal was standing on shaky legs. Something that was both grayish and red and slickly revolting had also been delivered several minutes after the foal had – he picked it up and dumped it in a slop bucket. Dark helped the little… - he eyed the newborn's genitals – colt… find his mother's teat, and looked for a damp rag to clean his hands of birth viscera.

"That was very well done." Said the local healer, a fragile-looking woman aged somewhere on the borderline between mature and declining. She dismissed the other stable boy and shuffled over, barely leaning on her cane, a canvas healer's kit tucked under a bony arm. Yelen Hodas ran knobbly hands and a critical eye over the mare and colt both, before nodding to herself, relying on her cane to stand from where she had been kneeling. "They're in fine condition. Wash your hands – with lye, mind you - and come here." Dark obeyed, taking the slop bucket with him and emptying in the midden heap, before rinsing it out by the hand-powered water pump, then filling it again. He returned to the stable and soaped up his hands up to the elbows with the harsh soap that the stableboys were allowed for various cleaning jobs.

"Give me your hands." Yelen commanded.

Warily, he held out his clean hands for her to examine. They were long, clever hands, the knuckles swollen and the skin on them raw and cracked from the unaccustomed work. He was not to use liniments meant for horses on himself, so his skin was dry and tight. Dark was used to handling weapons, not bristle brushes and shovels – and he was still in the process of building up enough callous tissue to end his days without painful aches. It had taken a week after the ambush in Drought Country for him to get all the blood out from under his fingernails. He'd slowly migrated south, paying his way with labor. The Monster had only come out twice more, leaving blank gaps in his memory and the disconcerting revival to awareness while standing in the middle of bodies. The first kill had tried to jump him in a tavern, and the men who'd witnessed it had been shocked when the Monster had wrestled the knife away from the man and turned it on his attacker. He'd not been blamed – the man was of an unsavory nature, and had preyed on young boys before. Dark hadn't stayed long in that town. The second and third kills had been a band of true highwaymen. Those two were dead quickly – somehow the Monster had torn their heads off. Dark didn't wonder how it had happened – the five other thieves had wisely fled.

"What is your name, lad?" The old woman asked, and Dark fidgeted, breaking out of memories.

"Jon." He lied easily, now long accustomed to his alibi. Yelen smiled.

"Surely you have a surname, now, don't you Jon?"

"Yes mum. It's Kilresey." He said, and that at least was correct – it was his middle name. "Jon Kilresey, mum."

"You are a stableboy working for Master Hellas, yes? Where do you come from? I've lived long in this town, and I've never heard of anyone who goes by Kilresey."

"Rebels ran my family out of our village." Dark murmured, "Now there's only me. I was to be a soldier for the Crown, but I'm tired of death. Lake Hylia is nice and peaceful."

"Hmf. What kind of individual magic do you have, lad? And what kind of ear clip do you wear?" There were six grades of clip, which depended on the strength of the racial magic of an individual, classes A to F, A being the strongest, and F suppressing magic that was barely there at all. Most Hylians wore class D's and E's.

"I've a timesense, mum. And it's a class C clip."

"Well, that's good to hear. And I think a timesense certainly is useful. Where do you sleep?"

"In the loft, mum. With the cats."

"In the loft…! It's well that we live in such warm climes, I suppose, but hay bales are no bed! Well, Jon. I've been looking for an apprentice. My last one moved down to Kelyeso, and you certainly fit the ticket. What say you, lad?"

"It sounds very well." Dark said, pleased but surprised. "Better than stablehandling, anyway. I only get a rupee a day, and free board, but I have to feed myself with that rupee."

"Hellas has always been cheap." Yelen remarked, putting her kit back together. "I treat my apprentices well, Jon. You'll get a small room of your own, food enough for a growing boy, Godsday and holidays off. It will require both hard work and talent. You can read, I pray?"

"Of course!" Dark did his best not to scoff. "Not much practice with it, but my parents did me right."

"Can you write as well?"

"Yes, mum."

"I will expect you to work from dawn to dusk. You will learn from me, assist me in my healings, and carry my things for me. But if you're the kind of lad I'm guessing you are, I'd bet you'll receive your serpent's medal before five years are out."

"Then when can I start?" Dark wanted to know, smiling. Yelen smiled back.

"I will talk with Hellas tomorrow morning. A man who pays a rupee a day for a stable boy doesn't deserve to expect much out of them. Now get a good night's sleep, my lad, and I will see you on the morrow."

"Thank you. I- I'll see you tomorrow, then." He said, throat tight. Yelen nodded, and left the stable. The other stable boy, Darren, helped him freshen the feed and water for the new mother horse, locked up, and clambered into the loft to sleep.

Dark wrapped his thin blanket around himself and curled into a shallow depression in the hay bales and loose straw.

"Guess this means I won't be seeing you around again, huh, Jon?" Darren asked from a few feet away.

"Yeah. I can't turn down an offer to apprenticeship." Dark replied, rubbing at his eyes to try and keep tears away. Talking in the dark always reminded him of Rick, and the memory of what he'd lost crept over him. What would happen now? He might become a healer, if he worked at it. Maybe he could repay all the lives he had taken, Monster or no. He was starting to lose that numbness that had helped him work through his grief, and Dark didn't know whether he could function without Rick – whether he could even be happy without his bondmate. But anything was better than letting himself die. For better or worse, he would have to live, and move on.

Rick wouldn't want him to give in, he thought. He'd want Dark to prosper, to find happiness. It was a comforting, obstinate thought. The day had been long, and busy, so with the stable cats nestled against him, purring, Dark drifted off to foggy-dreamed sleep.

* * *

The three weeks Keen spent training the men whirled by in a blaze of exertion. Sloppy training on the Crown's fault, really. Was the situation really so desperate that the new recruits were given only a few month's training, handed a sword and bow and marched to the front lines? Well, now his men knew their footwork, all the important formations, and had a better understanding of the basic battle command-codes they'd only briefly covered in their original training. The nine were certainly feeling more confident now, judging by the way they carried themselves now.

Keen had spent this, the last day of training, to practice cadences. At first, when he'd sung out the call-and-response as they ran, his nine men simply stared at the pleasant sound of his voice. Patiently, he'd repeated the chorus of the bawdy song, and they'd snapped back to attention, picking up the lines of the (admittedly naughty) song that involved the romance between a mountain wolf and a female ridge-cat in heat, the torrid yet anatomically impossible affair that followed, and then the increasingly strange offspring that resulted. By the end of the cadence, they were throwing in their own lines, keeping in step, and panting with both laughter and exertion.

It was the last day before the next, probably suicidal mission started. Keen decided to let the men off early, and ended training once it was late in the afternoon.

He took his time enjoying a last hot bath, and went to his and Muiren's room to study the newest information from the Front. He slung his boots under the bed and turned to see – remarkably - a woman seated at the desk. She was golden of skin, her hair long and mossy green.

"Ferrick Keen." She said, eyeing him.

"That's me. Is there something you need, Miss?"

"You." She said, eyes intent. Keen raised a dark eyebrow.

"That's flattering, but not possible. I'm not sure how you got back here, but women are not allowed in the men's barracks. Or even in the dispatch centre at all. It's for their, and your safety, so if you'll let me, I will escort you out."

The woman waved her hand at the door, which slammed shut and locked itself. Keen grit his teeth, then let himself relax.

"I stand corrected. Not a miss, but a Lady Mage. Well. If you're a battle mage, the General will be wanting to see you. Let me take you to him-"

"I am not here for the General, Ferrick Keen. I am here for you. I have watched you for years. And while I was indeed a battle mage, you might know me better as the Goddess Farore."

"I might believe that, if you could show me a sign." Keen said warily, "Pick thoughts out of my head. Or perhaps you could heal the whip scars on my back. That would surely prove your powers." Farore smiled at this.

"Very well, if that is what it takes to persuade you." She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, and directed a green glowing cloud of magic at the young Captain. He sucked in a breath. Waited.

Nothing.

"What?" Farore asked, frowning, and tried again. "Why will it not work?"

Keen began to laugh, a little unhinged.

He stifled what was alarmingly close to a giggle.

"Tell me then, if it will not work, how can you be a Goddess at all?"

"When you were nine, and your bondmate eight, you went deep into the woods behind Patcheem." She started, "You lost track of time, and didn't leave before the sun set. A rogue Stalfos from the town graveyard attacked. You both ran. But you were faster. It grabbed ahold of young Darken of the Weaver clan, and threw him down. His Demon took over, and he ripped it apart and crushed its bones to powder. He then turned on you. He came to his senses quickly, but not before he broke your arm. You still have the scar from where the bone tore your skin open. He wept when he realized what he had done, and the both of you swore to keep Darken's Demon a secret. And so you did."

Keen's eyes were wide by the end of this speech. He swallowed reflexively.

"No one knows that but me." He said, "Not even Dark. I told him the Stalfos did it, and he believed me. No one else knew." And here his heavy brow furrowed, "Yet you do. No magic, not on me. But it works around me, doesn't it?"

Farore thought furiously, then snapped an brisk finger at the maps on the desk and at the chair. The map turned into a turtledove and the chair into a hawk. The rust-tailed predator chased the frantic dove around the room, matching it move for move, before snagging it in its talons with a triumphant screech. It flew back to the desk to eat, but with another flick of a finger the two birds returned to their former states, the chair pushing itself under the desk, the map's tears smoothing and sheepishly mending.

Keen stared.

"Yes, you've made your point, thank you." He said slowly. "What, great Goddess, would you want with a sorry bastard like myself? Surely it involves fighting. That's all I'm good for, after all."

Farore laughed.

"Don't sell yourself short, Captain. The newest cycle of the Endless Cataclysm has begun. I wish to claim you as my champion. You are a very brave man, which makes you perfect for my plans."

"And what would that be."

"I want you to take control of the country. That is the goal of this cycle."

"I don't want to control a country." Keen said flatly. "I'd be awful at it. My own people barely tolerated me – my commanding officer was happy to see me go."

"A wise man once said prophets, the great ones, are never recognized in their own land." The green-haired deity said, so softly.

"No. I'm not a- prophecy requires _magic_, which – you might've noticed – I do not have and cannot be touched by. Furthermore," And he pointed a rude finger at her, forgetting himself, "Bastard children always pay for their parent's sins. The fact that I'm a captain stems from a lack of quality around me, and some coincidental deaths of my superiors, not my own supposedly sterling qualities. You've got the wrong end of the sword, Green Lady."

Farore shrugged bare shoulders.

"I think that, perhaps, that kind of untouchability might be useful in some situations." She said idly, then grew serious. "Ferrick Keen, I cannot force you into my service. But you must know there are substantial benefits to becoming my champion. I can give you followers. Resources. Status."

Keen shook his head.

"What kind of followers could I want, that would follow me because they are compelled? No. That is weakness. Too many resources inspires the same envy that makes the South of Hyrule wish for an independence they cannot handle. Status only makes you a target. No. No, my Lady, there is only one thing I want, and you can't give it to me."

Farore smiled gently, confident.

"Name it, and I will prove you wrong."

"Bring Dark back to life. To my side once more. Do that, and I will do your bidding for the rest of my life." Keen licked his lips nervously, not daring to hope, but hoping nonetheless.

"Oh, you are so young!" She said, face falling. "Dark is a Demonschild. He already cheated death when he was formed and reborn anew. You cannot deny death more than twice, even with powers like mine."

Keen's rough features twisted in strangled defiance.

"Then what good are you?" He demanded icily, "I thought the Gods could do anything! But you can't! You can't bring him back to me, you can't think like a mortal, you can't _even touch me_. What does that make you? What does that make me? Am I some reject of Hyliankind, cut adrift from the true nature of this world? This world was made with magic. How can there be none in me? Tell me this, you've seen more than I and walked further on this land."

"Though I am only the Goddess of Courage, not Wisdom, my powers are great, and my knowledge deep. But you baffle me." Farore confessed, eyes wide. "I can create you a new lover, who will live with you without dying until you breathe your last. That I can do. But don't ask me to meddle with demons. They are less than gods, but they are cunning and relentless all the same."

Keen giggled – such a strange noise from that silky, dark voice - and clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with emotion. Farore watched with concern.

"Get out." He said, doing his best to breathe evenly.

"What?" She frowned, disbelieving.

"Leave this place. I'll not worship again, if the Goddesses play with mortals like pawns, but have no clout beyond great magics. No. Never again will I obey the three Worships. I will not be your champion, Green Lady Farore the Ever-Growing."

"But I can give you a good life-" She protested, "I have watched over you and your men these past forty days, how do you think you are still alive? It was my doing!"

Keen stood with a jerk and threw his chair down in rage.

"_I don't want to live!_" He shouted, livid. "I knew what I was getting into, and you have only foiled my ends for your _own purposes!_" He brought his hand up and slammed it down onto the desk.

Farore flinched, hazel eyes wide. That little movement sent shock across his face, calming and bewildering.

"You can't possibly-" He started weakly, with a chuckle, "You can't possibly… be _afraid_ of _me? _Aren't you a Goddess? Didn't you create this world? And all living things, to uphold law and till the earth?"

Farore said nothing, just stared. Keen stared back, crazed gold around his pupils, burning away the blue. His trembling mouth firmed, and he lifted his chin deliberately, looking down at her. Squaring broad shoulders, he reached out and took her arm firmly in his hands.

"That's enough visiting for today, I think, Green Lady." He said with false cheer, "Come with me, I'm afraid that an army barracks is no place for a woman, especially an officer's quarters." He led her over to the door, not allowing any refusals on her part, and took her into the hallways. "Go find another man to play your games, if you please, I'll not be joining you. Now, if you'll come with me-"

"Captain Keen! What's going on?" General Justice of the Wolf Tooth clan queried in his wry, nasal drone, "Is that a _woman?_"

"Indeed that is, General, Sir." Keen replied. "She's lost, I assure you, I was just escorting her out, Sir."

The General raised an eyebrow in contemplation, followed by the other. Then he must have dismissed whatever he'd been thinking, possibly of an affair, because he then said;

"Very good then, Captain. Carry on. Excellent work on the cadences, by the way, lad."

"Thank you sir. Please, Miss, the exit is this way…" A private passing by went and held the door for Keen and the seemingly-mortal Goddess. Keen released her when they stood at the street entrance of the compound in Briarsedge. "Farewell, and a safe journey to you, Miss."

Farore shrugged off his hand on her arm.

"What will you do now, without me?" She asked sternly, and Keen shrugged.

"Die, I suppose. I don't see why it's any business of yours anymore."

"I hope you don't regret it," She replied, but it wasn't a threat.

"I doubt I will." The young Captain dismissed, and Farore nodded heavily, then walked into the crowd and disappeared.

Keen took in a deep breath, returned to his quarters and sat down in the chair that had recently been turned into a red-tailed hawk.

He buried his head in his hands, and began to laugh. Muiren took that moment to appear, and frowned at his Captain.

"What's so funny?"

Keen giggled a little, helpless to his own emotions.

"Wald, you wouldn't believe me if I told you!"

* * *

"We live a dying dream  
If you know what I mean  
All that I've ever known  
It's all that I've ever known

Catch the wheel that breaks the butterfly  
I cried the rain that fills the ocean wide  
I tried to talk with God to no avail  
Calling Him in and out of nowhere  
Said if You won't save me,

Please don't waste my time."

~Falling Down, Oasis

* * *

1. Pyrite (or iron sulfide) is an important mineral, as sulfur can be extracted from it. Black powder, also known as gunpowder, is made from a mixture of sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate. Pyrite can also be used as an ignition material when struck against steel, and is also useful in obtaining/creating various chemical substances through chemical reactions – the alchemy of its day.

2. A pronounciation key, for those who want it

Kattala – "Kah-tall-uh"

Jon Kilresey – "John Kill-ress-say"

Walden Muiren – "Walled-ehn Meh-yuur-ehn"

3. For those who'd like to know more about me, my chronic depression/bipolar has been acting up lately, so I get easily tired, and learn slower than usual. Thus I have been overwhelmed by a courseload I usually manage easily. On top of that, I am transferring to a college five times larger than my quaint little one, since there is more academic diversity there, as well as both a creative writing major, and a creative writing graduate program. Along with authorship, someday I hope to teach college students the ins and outs of writing both fiction and non-fiction, as well as learning to present without freaking out or stuttering. I also needed to take the time to put together a writer's workshop for a convention, and it went well and received a lot of positive feedback, so I'm very optimistic about my future as a writing teacher. Writing this story is and has long been my favorite part of my day, and I'm sorry I can't update every week like I want to. Please don't get scared away.

4. Quick update - just been accepted today, along with unexpected scholarship money! I'm super excited!

* * *

As always, I love reviews. Please review. Feedback is ever so helpful.


	47. Formation

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Six: Formation**

"I can't believe it." Farore said glumly, to Anasi, who frowned.

"Believe what, hmm?"

"The one I chose for my champion… he refused me."

"Ah, I see." The man's eyebrows rose. "Has that happened before?"

Farore shook her head.

"Never. Not once."

"Bound to happen eventually. I know it's a shock, but everyone of power is refused by those less than they. God or no God, not every mortal will submit. I learned that from Will, myself." He paused, thinking. "Does this ruin your plans?"

"Not entirely," And here she bit her lower lip, "There is one other, who could both take the country and do it well."

"Then go to them." Anasi urged, and when Farore turned a blank look on him, he sighed with a rude smile. "You needn't fuss over me all by my lonesome, duckie. I won't, aha, wither away and die. So go, my little one, so you may find a champion to represent you properly."

"Yes, my God." Farore said, and popped out of the Sacred Citadel, headed for a town in the mountains.

Anasi stretched in the resulting silence.

"What you women do to run the country is really quite bizarre." He commented. "It's too bad they haven't heard of the Greek pantheon, I suppose, or they'd know how much of a mockery they're making of it." He recrossed his long legs idly, eying up the game pieces on the Hyrule-shaped game table. Anasi briefly felt the urge to move some of the pieces, just to see what would happen. It would be interesting to discover what the consequences would be if he moved a temple across the country, and emptied the temple piece of its priests. What would happen to the mortals? Would they die? Would the temple simply disappear from around them and leave them in a suddenly empty city lot? Or wilderness. Wherever those temples were.

There was always one sure way to find out. But no. Anasi restrained himself. That would be meddling. He'd promised not to interfere, but really, what were promises worth? _He_ was the god. No one else.

"That's the problem with deifying people, really." He said, "After a bit they start thinking they're smarter than mortals, when they're not. It's very entertaining, of course, and I'm sure you are all enjoying it, certainly. Though they're making a right cock-up of it. No class these days, absolutely no class. But what can you expect? They're women, in the end. What say you?" He demanded.

There was no response to his outrageous comment.

"Fine, be that way." The Mad God pouted. "See if I care. It's not like you can change anything, anyways."

He leaned forward and popped a piece of honeycomb into his mouth, chewing with relish. Hyrule was a strange place – it hadn't followed his rules for a long time. Its only interest was its novelty. The food was good though.

Ah, but the food was good everywhere.

* * *

The mage-blasts went off with a thunderous roar, followed by the ten barrels of black powder the Falcon's Sixteenth had found near the pyrite mine. Keen laughed softly as he dashed to safety, not noticing the bulky man waiting carefully behind the corner of a shed. He saw the blow coming too late, and spreading stars like molten pools burst behind his eyes. Dazed, he reeled from the blow, and the man took the opportunity to swung the piece of lumber into his gut, and on the back of Keen's neck.

The young Captain crumpled to the ground, his head striking the earth, and darkness closed in on him.

He woke in dank, humid darkness. Keen groaned, and tried to touch his aching head, but to no use – his hands were manacled behind his back. Further movement (which only served to make his head hurt worse) proved that his feet were also bound, and a chain connected the manacles to the foot restraints. That established, he looked around himself. The thin light revealed a small cell, floored with straw and barred with iron and wood. There was a bucket full of water in one corner, and an empty one in the other corner meant to serve as a chamber pot. Keen crawled over to the water bucket and took a few cautious sips. It tasted stale, but not fouled, and entirely of water. The only drugs that were both tasteless and soluble in water were magical ones, fortunately, and thus would not affect him.

Well, this seemed to be the end, he thought. Captured by rebels, likely to be interrogated for any information he knew, and then killed when he might refuse to break. It wasn't a bad end, really.

He lay down and waited silently.

Keen didn't have to wait long. Heavy footsteps sounded from above – from the rhythm of the steps, the man approaching was descending a flight of stairs. They came closer, and the man walked into the thin light from the only failing lantern. He was tall, slightly hunched of back, and the barred door opened when Keen's captor touched the lock with a finger.

"Cheer up, boy." The jailer said gleefully, two burly men stepping out to either side of him, "We're going to have some fun tonight!"

* * *

It wasn't so bad, really, Keen thought to himself, the muscles in his legs screaming. His hands were tied behind his back, squatting, made to balance on the toes of his feet, folded into an upright ball with his head touching his knees.

It wasn't too bad. It wasn't worse than whippings, or crippling cramps after grueling training sessons, instructors screaming in your face.

He didn't even have to keep quiet, so long as nothing coherent left his lips.

Just hold the position. Not so hard.

He was thirsty.

* * *

They'd tried caning his feet.

It didn't work. There was a lot of shouting when they realized they weren't getting anything out. His captors liked to shout, quite a bit, right in his face. Not much different from his home life, actually. Best not to let them know that, though.

* * *

At some point, someone realized magic wasn't working on him. He'd been pretending, but it was hard to imitate the effects of unknown spells.

Pity that. He'd liked the respite, just laying out on the table he'd grown familiar with.

How long had he been here? They didn't let him sleep much.

He found time was beginning to distort itself. Ah, Dark, a time sense was useful after all.

He felt bad for teasing Dark about it so much. He'd have to apologize when he saw his bondmate in the afterlife.

Hopefully there was one. Sometime he wasn't so sure.

* * *

By now he knew the routine. It was the first part that hurt most, the part where they ripped the nail off. Blood soothed the sting, subsiding to a dull burn.

At least they'd started with his toes.

And he was still thirsty. They'd taken that blessed bucket of water out of his comfortable little cell.

* * *

He was not thirsty.

They tied him down on the stained table, his arms out, his legs spread, his body higher than his head.

They put a cloth over his face, then water poured from above. It soaked into his hair, into his gasping, then shut tight mouth. Drowning.

He choked and gagged, swallowed the water down desperately so as not to breathe it into his lungs.

Maybe he should have just sucked it in, and reach what he'd given into, but his body wanted to _live, damn it_.

When the water stopped, he turned his head to the side, coughing up liquid, until he could suck in deep, drawing breaths of clean air. There was no greater pleasure than this, refilling his lungs and clearing his buzzing head.

When they put him back in the cell, they refilled the water bucket. They flicked water droplets at his face and laughed when he flinched.

* * *

At some point someone got artistic with a knife. It would scar, quite distinctively.

* * *

When he heard the cellar door open, every nerve in his broken body jumped, conditioned and twitching and aware of what was coming. There was a warning shout, and over that, the sound of swords cutting through flesh, the gurgle of a man run through.

He hauled himself to his feet, painful though it was, his soles long healed but the tips of his toes raw without nails. A body toppled down the stairs – he recognized it as the man who always came to fetch him – a broken neck to match his crooked back.

Eller dashed down the stairs after the body, and blinked in the low light to ascertain who was in the cells.

"Shit!" He swore, "Captain Keen?"

Yes, that was him, wasn't it? Yes.

"Here," Keen croaked, and the largest man on the Falcon's Sixteenth hurried over, grasping the door and the door frame and tore it open with his own natural strength-magics. Keen swayed unsteadily on his feet, using the iron bars to keep himself upright.

"Sorry, meaning no disrespect, sir." Eller said hurriedly, and slung Keen over his shoulders effortlessly. Keen clung, to be helpful – he was in no condition to run anywhere – and Eller took them both out of the cellar, and out into the fresh air of twilight. Eller barreled past several stands of fighting, directly for a dark patch of woods.

"Fall back!" Muiren bellowed, "We have him! Fall back!" The other men abandoned their adversaries, melting away into the forest, leaving smoke, bodies, and broken rebels behind in the miner's camp.

* * *

When he'd gotten enough sleep, Keen pulled himself out of the tent Muiren had laid him in, feeling much better after clean water, a solid meal, and a night spent under Muiren's watchful eye. He hobbled to the camp fire, back straight and dark hair mussed. There was Muiren, sentimental Smek, oddly emotionless Benlar, and canny Hest. Wask too. They broke into grins at the sight of their captain awake, even Wask.

"I told them you'd be alive, still, Captain." Smek said, beaming. "And I was right!"

Keen nodded, and lowered himself onto the log seat the other men had dragged over to the fire pit, managing to stifle his grunt of pain as he sat.

"Rana, Eller, and Gonar are hunting, Sir." Muiren said briskly, and handed Keen a canteen of water, which was drained quickly and returned.

"Good." The young captain replied, "How far into the forest?"

"They know not to enter the Lost Woods. It's good to see you on your feet, sir."

"Feels good to be out of there. The rescue was your initiative, I take it?"

"No, Captain Keen. Eller and Benlar refused to give you up for dead. They were all for chasing after your captors, but we stayed at the mine long enough to ruin it. We filled it with rubble and seared the exits shut. Then we looked for you. Do you know how long it took?"

"I didn't sleep well there. I lost track of time in the cellar."

"It's been twenty-two days." Muiren said, looking concerned when Keen shrugged.

"Really? So that's how long it was." Hest handed the captain a tin plate of rough trail bread, cooked fruit from the surrounding forest, and several sausages that were greasy and crunchy both. Keen took the food eagerly, and made an enraptured noise as he chewed greedily on the first half-burnt sausage. His men grinned at the sight of their captain's open enjoyment of the simple meal.

"Did they get anything out of you?" Wask asked waspishly, and Muiren glared.

"No one would blame you if you did." The blonde said loyally. Benlar nodded his approval.

"Just gibberish." Keen shrugged. "I might've mentioned something about coming from far North, and a bit of information that had already been compromised, according to the higher-ranking officers at Briarsedge during our stay." He paused. "They seemed happy about that, at least. Gave me a whole orange tuber, after that slip."

Wask looked vaguely nauseated at that addition. Muiren and Benlar blinked at their captain, caught off-guard and unsure of what to say.

Keen finished the food on his plate and attempted to stand.

"We've got to get ready to leave, make for Briarsedge and get a new mission." He declared. Benlar got up hastily and pushed Keen back down on the log seat. The young man made a betrayed sound, and sat.

"You're in no condition to travel yet, sir." Benlar said, running a proprietary hand through his captain's dark brunette hair, "Actually, you'd be the better for some more sleep."

"Mutiny!" Keen murmured peevishly, but he allowed the troop medic to lead him back to the officer's tent and lay him down on his bedroll. He was relaxed and dozing not long after his head hit the headrest.

* * *

"Benlar." Benlar rolled over and ignored the other man in the tent.

"Benlar." Eller said again, this time louder. Benlar made an exasperated noise. Between Eller's chattiness and Rana's snoring he'd never get any sleep at this rate.

When Eller repeated himself again, Benlar rolled over and faced the larger man.

"What."

"Will the Captain ever get better?"

"Why? Because you want to get back into action or because of your secret wish to copulate with him?"

Eller's jaw dropped and heavy eyebrows raised, looking flabbergasted. Benlar stared back coolly.

When no response was forthcoming, the narrow medic whose bland face carried a constant expression of intense focus took it as a sign to continue on.

"I honestly don't see the point in it. It's all so very messy and undignified. Why anyone is interested I wouldn't know."

"Because it's fun." Eller replied.

"You might think so. I understand the point is to procreate, but that only works when men copulate with women, not men with men."

"The point is not to procreate, Benlar, for Goddess's sakes. It feels good, and relieves tension. It makes you feel close to who you have it with."

"But you are not close to the captain." Benlar observed idly, "Lieutenant Muiren is. You follow him like a shy puppy, following but not closely. That is not an approach that will achieve what you desire. Even I know that."

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right time," Eller said steadfastly in response.

Benlar actually laughed.

"When do you think the right time will be? I tended him after we got the Captain back. He won't be ready for what you want for years, after what they did to him in captivity."

The ox of a man went pale, eyes dropping.

"He said it was only torture, not rape." He whispered.

"Rape is torture, Eller. Don't be stupid. And of course he denied it. Muiren said it's best to just agree with him, and let Captain Keen repress that memory as best he can. I might not understand the way people think the way I understand how their bodies work, but you push what you want on him, and he'll remember just fine. So you watch yourself around the Captain, you just watch yourself, if you still think you like him as much as you say you do."

"Are you going to tell everyone, now?" Eller queried, trying not to look ashamed.

"Why would they care?" Benlar asked derisively.

"About me. Army doesn't like men like me." The giant man with his oddly cherubic face muttered.

"The army likes inverts just fine or Patcheem generals wouldn't have gotten into the ranks. Why would I tell the other men here who dislike those things? And who?"

"Gonar's very devout. Nayru made the Law, and inverts weren't in the Law. Smek's a nice lad, but he can't keep his mouth shut. I heard him too much. Wask's either a shamed invert or a killer of 'em."

"For Farore's sake, Eller. I won't tell. Nor will Rana, if you're listening, you noisy, snoring bastard." Benlar said over at the sleeping man with great exasperation, and Eller grinned

"You won't tell. _I'm_ the only one who tolerates you!"

"Yes, poor pitiful me, you great lummox. And I'm _quite_ done with this ridiculous conversation, all right? Some of us mortals can't survive on less than six hours of sleep. Good _night._"

Benlar rolled away from Eller onto his side, and did his best to sleep.

The next morning, as the men gathered around the campfire, Muiren left Captain Keen's side and headed for Eller, singling him out.

"I've heard rumors, Eller." He said slowly, pale eyes looking sharply up at the bulky man.

"Rumors? In a ten-man troop? Who spilled, Lieutenant?"

"I was awake last night. You weren't very discreet, Eller. I could hear you from the tent over. Good thing the Captain's tent was between yours, Rana's and Benlar's tent, now, wasn't?"

"I won't do anything about my feelings, Lieutenant." Eller muttered, "I promise. I just…" He took a deep breath and continued "I just want him well."

Muiren nodded.

"As we all do, Eller. We all do. And your choice is the right one. And because of that, there's more I think you should know."

"What?" Now Eller's curiosity was piqued.

"Captain was betrothed to be married, before he joined us."

Eller's face fell.

"So he likes girls, not men."

"Wrong. I believe he has no particular preference, but he was betrothed to a young fellow who is now quite dead. And the Captain saw it happen. They were both soldiers, raised for it. They thought they would serve together, as a unit. For the rest of their lives."

"Oh." It was a telling oh. Muiren frowned again, rubbing an irritated hand through the short bristles of his pale blonde hair.

"Yes, Eller. He was in love with a man who was a soldier. You are too close to that. We failed when he was captured, and we'll be paying for it with our deaths if we'll have to. You're a good man, Private Eller, and for that, if we live long enough, I'll mention your inclinations to him in passing. If he's an interest, that's up to him. At least he'll be informed. The others won't hear anything about this from me, so please be more discreet. And that will be all, Eller. Are we clear?"

"As Lake Hylia, Lieutenant." Eller said crisply, and saluted.

"Good. You may rejoin the others." Eller obeyed, and the handsome Lieutenant watched him go, wondering where Keen would take the Falcon's Sixteenth next.

* * *

When Benlar was certain Keen had gained enough weight back to travel through the war-torn countryside, the Falcon's Sixteenth returned to Briarsedge.

They could smell the smoke before they actually see the city.

"Smell that!" Hest said heartily, "Wood fires and roasted meat! We'll eat well tonight! Not to mention, cots and a roof over our heads!" Eller grinned, elbowing a tired Benlar, who looked like he'd prefer to bite the other man rather than smile at him. Wask snorted and Muiren scowled, but there was a relaxed air to the troop's vigilance as they approached the city.

The city came into view, wreathed in smoke and dully burning fires.

Keen sucked in a deep breath, feeling like he'd taken a blow to the chest.

Briarsedge had been sacked and burned. The wood smoke came from lumber buildings burnt. The roasted meat was the citizens on war pyres. From a tower left intact, the flag of the opposition flew, a golden ridge-cat on an emerald field.

"We retreat." Keen said lowly, trying not to choke on the scent of smoke, flesh and burnt hair. "They can't have gained hold in Loggershead. We'll head for Sagehill, that's two days journey, and on our way."

"Right," Rana said, cocking a long pointed ear as he focused his hunting-magic, then shook his head sharply. "There's a group of men headed this way, about six, four hundred yards away, four o' clock."

"Retreat," Keen repeated, and the Falcon's Sixteenth melted back into the woods, silent and swift.

The march to Sagehill was spent as quietly as possible, carefully avoiding rebels in their emerald uniforms, Southern men confident enough to march-step along the roads rather than sneak through the undergrowth. Some were even calling out cadences, and Keen shook his head in disgust, then soldiered on.

* * *

It had started out as a nice day. Really, it had, despite the persistent rain that had been falling for the past five days straight. A warm, if wet spring storm. The Ferres household had several sets of leyline-charged water shields, so Kattala and Link had liberated two from the closet near the manor's front hall, slipping the clunky blue bracelets firmly onto their wrists before heading outside. It was rather interesting watching the rain above his head get redirected to fall around him, Link thought.

Today he and Kattala were picking up supplies for whatever she had been making him for the past two months.

"Buttons." She said, smiling as she pushed her bright hair out of her face, "Leather stain, and some beads. You need to pick them, since I can't do it for you."

"All right," Link agreed easily, wondering what she was making. A hat? That might make sense, considering his fondness for them. A new pack? Probably not, as his own was perfectly acceptable. Some kind of leather vest? He didn't like vests. These thoughts filled his head as they ascended the ramp stairs up to the highest terrace in Kakariko, where the craftsman's market was located.

Kattala, basket on her other arm, hooked her free hand around Link's left arm and dragged him into a tanner's booth. Along with a selection of leather goods, there were also dyes and leather cleaning supplies. Above the part of the booth counter reserved for dyes, there was a rainbow of differently hued leather squares.

"Which one of these shades do you think as might fit both green, red, blue, and light brown?" Kattala asked, pointing in the samples' direction.

"What could you possibly be making that would put all four of those clothes together? That would be quite a clash, wouldn't it?" Link wanted to know, and she grinned.

"That's for me to know, and for you to be left in the dark about, that is."

"What shades of color? Specifically?" He asked, cocking his head inquiringly.

"Oh, dark olive, maroon, indigo, golden brown." She replied slowly. Link reached out a hand, considering, and stroked the various colored leathers.

"How about this color?" He asked, tapping a rich dark maple square. Kattala nodded, and the tanner who had been hovering silently went to the back of the booth and returned with a small stoppered jar of leather stain. Rupees were exchanged, and the two friends moved on to a booth that sold sewing-craft pieces.

Within short order, Link picked out ten dull brass buttons, oval-shaped, copper thread, various colored small glass beads, and four small flat pieces of ivory.

He fished around in his purse for the proper amount of rupees, then handed them over. Kattala had a brief conversation about sewing and working leather with the craftswoman running the stall before she and Link left the market to eat the pair of roasted apples they'd purchased earlier. The apples had been studded with cloves and cinnamon before being cooked, the studs removed, stabbed onto sticks, then rolled in maple sugar, which stuck to the sticky treat.

They washed the apples down with water from Link's canteen, and began to make their way down to the fifth terrace.

A boy came out of nowhere on the sixth, bolting past Link and snatching up Kattala's shopping basket. She refused to let go, and was dragged off her feet by another youth who was about a head and a half taller than her, and still not fully grown. She was forced to let go, and then a second boy reached over and gave her a good shove.

Link caught her by the upper arm before she could tip over, and helped Kattala back to her feet.

"What was it this time, Rald?" She asked wearily, tottering and bringing a small hand to her face defensively, as four other boys made a circle around them, jeering. Link eyed the boys with a hard eye – six in total, and he'd no weapons on him but his hands and feet.

"You been trespassing," The leader said, thumbing a swollen pimple on his chin. "The roofways are ours, chicky. Girls're allowed, but you ain't a girl, witchy."

Kattala had taken Link up onto the shallowly slanting rooftops of Kakariko. Most houses in Kakariko were two or three stories high, while each terrace cut into the mountainside was about three to four stories high. There were lattices strung up on the sides of most houses, to let mashnut clingers grow on the vertical surfaces. Those lattices made perfect ladders – and at the points where there was no easy access to the terrace above, ladders had been lowered from above, and had not been removed by the house owners.

"The roofways," Link said, "Belong to the residents who live under them."

"Who're you, cripple?" A second boy sneered.

"A friend." Link sneered back, doing his best imitation of Ganondorf. He'd always felt lucky not to be on the receiving end of it. He'd worked harder than he'd ever imagined he could, not to be. Somehow, he got the feeling that with his weaker nose, darker eyes, and the arm carefully held to his chest by new habit, he simply couldn't compete with his step-father in regards to intimidation. The difference in height probably entered into it as well.

"Friend! Hear that? She's got livin' friends now! Don't that just take all." The lead boy spat on Kattala's skirt, taking a step forward. Kattala took a matching step backwards.

"Stop it." She said, quietly but firmly, and was ignored.

"Say, why're you caring about the roofways, cripple?" Ah, so Link was the target now, a new one. "S'not like you can get up there with that hand, anyways."

Link looked over at Kattala. Her face was pale, her wreck of a nose looked blotchy and red, her lip held worried between her teeth.

"Geoff." The leader, Rald, said with a gesture. "Why don't you bring out that there bucket we brought? We got plenty of targets!" The last sentence was said with a snigger. The boy Geoff moved fast. The six boys distributed the eggs with impressive efficiency.

"We should go," Link informed Kattala.

"It's far too late for that, boyo." She replied steadily, steeling herself with a resigned air. "Best as to just let them get it out of their heads."

The boys grinned, and threw the eggs at the two victims. Shells and yolks split, albumen flying everywhere. They hurt as they burst.

When it was done, Kattala sighed in sadly, and wiped her face clean with the handkerchief she'd been keeping in her sleeve pocket.

"Thought as maybe the rain shields might keep the eggs out. But that's not so, no." She said, then lifted her chin angrily. "You done, then?" Kattala addressed the boys, "That's a waste of good eggs, that was. I hope you didn't steal them, like."

"Didn't steal." Rald said scornfully. Link snorted.

"Unlikely." He commented sharply, and Rald went red with anger.

"You got a problem, cripple? You angry? Maybe we didn't teach you your lesson right, cripple."

Link stepped up to Rald, in his face.

"You keep calling me that," Link said softly, "I don't think you understand." He curled his right hand, his bad hand, into a fist, chambered, and connected a strong right hook across the gang leader's jaw.

Rald fell to the ground, knocked onto his rear. He brought a shocked hand up to the bruise rapidly swelling on his jaw. Link shook the ache out of his bad hand.

"Cripples," Link said, loudly in the resulting silence, "Can't do that."

The boy to Rald's left took a step forward, fists up and ready, then rushed Link. Link sidestepped easily, and sent the kid flying with a neat skip-kick to the posterior. The other four lost no time attacking, three on Link and the one still holding Kattala's basket prudently holding himself back.

Link ignored a few blows to the ribs, getting a few good swings in with his good hand, ducked an attempt to grab him, blocked a punch with an elbow (using his bad hand _hurt_, but his elbow is fine) and then retaliated with the same elbow, decked a tall boy directly in the mouth with his left, then swiveled, his left leg coming around in a smooth crescent, shooting up and catching the last kid standing across the jaw. Gerudo fighting styles required _flexibility._

Then he found himself standing alone on the street corner, the other boys fled. There was a pained grunt, and he turned his head just in time to see Kattala sink her teeth into the arm of the boy holding onto her. Blood was drawn, and then she twisted her head sharply. The boy recoiled, and she got in a good kick to his shins before snatching her basket back. The boy eyed Link's approach, and fled.

"Let's go." She said, muted green eyes fierce, and Link nodded, offering her an arm and steering her away towards the ramp to the fifth terrace.

"Are you all right?" He queried, and Kattala nodded, her red-gold hair in disarray, cheeks flushed with anger and her mouth pinched with shame.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"What are you going to do when I'm gone?" Link wanted to know, "Those boys won't be happy, I don't think." He added ruefully, and Kattala dropped her eyes.

"I'll bring a chaperone from now on." She said sadly.

"Think that's a good idea."

"Yeah."

They were silent as they walked down the street.

"Let's take our rain-shields off. It won't matter now." Kattala said with a twist of a smile, and they snapped open the bracelets and put them in her basket.

The rain continued to pour down, washing some of the egg residue away. The Ferres manor awaited them, and hot baths.

"Waste of eggs." Kattala muttered to herself, rain rolling down her face and past a drip of yolk on her nose. The water droplets looked oddly like tears.

* * *

"Is sneaking around all we ever do now?" Eller wondered querulously, eying the clashing ranks of Northern and Southern soldiers who were fighting below the ridge Keen had his men climbing up.

"Shut up, you overgrown ox." Wask replied snidely, carefully picking his way up.

The Southern mages were wreaking death and destruction onto the Royal Army from their perch atop the ridge, hidden by various magics. The Falcon's Sixteenth captain had assured his men of the mages's presence, and Muiren could locate the general origin of such magics by tracing the lines of the spells thrown from above.

Keen heaved himself onto the top of the ridge, and flopped onto his back, gasping from the hard climb. A series of boulders and a stretch of thirty yards hid the company from the battle mages' sight, yet another stroke of luck from Muiren's magic. Eller was the last man to climb up, and the ten men huddled together when they'd got their breath.

"Your repeated insistence is false. I still can't see them," Benlar said, to nods of agreement. Keen pinched the bridge of his nose firmly, trying to stave off a headache, then sighed.

"There are only six of them. Look in that direction, you will see them." He pointed.

"Still can't see them." Benlar repeated.

"The closest is wearing an emerald green uniform, no robes." Keen said lowly, "He has red hair, short, somewhat swarthy, sweating and tired. He hurls flame, which has a pinkish hue to it. Next is a woman, old, by the way she hunches. She throws something invisible, but if you look in the direction she tosses her magic, water rises from the ground and drowns many men. Further along is a tall man, very pale skin, and all in black. He casts multiple spells, the effects vary. Watch for him – he must have a proper temple education. Next is a young boy, of about thirteen,"

"I see them!" Muiren muttered, squinting viciously in the right direction. The company's men looked in the same direction, as Keen continued to describe the mages. Their eyes widened as they realized they could see past the concealment spells to the mages within.

"By the Goddesses, we have them now!" Hest and Rana said exultantly.

"You can all see them now?" Keen inquired, hand on his sword.

"Yes, sir." The company replied as one. Keen smiled darkly.

"Then let us repay them for our fallen comrades. For King and country, we will strike them down. We charge," Keen said heavily, "In a count to three."

The men's hands went to their weapons, crouching.

_Three._

Gravel shifted under Smek's eager foot.

_Two._

A bead of sweat dripped from Hest's chin.

_One._

Eller and Gonar grinned, showing teeth.

_Charge!_

Keen's hand came down, and the ten men fell upon the mages so quickly and silently that the mages they attacked never had any hope in retaliating.

It was what was later called the Ridge Charge, the vital moment that changed the tides of battle upon the bloody grounds of Ballyn Fields.

* * *

"Surely you could be doing something more useful than embroidering handkerchiefs, Kat." Link said, carefully polishing the surface of his shield. "Why would anyone want a _magic handkerchief_?"

"They might if it's spelled as to clean anything, and never lose absorbency, like." Kattala said, sticking her tongue out at him as she made another careful stitch.

They were sitting in one of the shabbier sitting rooms in the manor, both individually occupied but nevertheless sharing casual conversation when one of the servants stood in the doorframe and cleared his throat quietly.

"Mistress Katerin, there is a woman at the door who wishes to speak with you and Master Link." Ganiel said, curiosity frank on his lined face.

"Who is she, Ganiel?" Kattala queried from her chair, skirts spread demurely.

"She calls herself a Miss Portia Bluewater."

"Calls?" Kattala frowned, "Do you think she's lying?"

"I don't think, Mistress, I know." Ganiel said confidently, and she nodded.

"Would you trust her in the house?"

"She seems harmless enough, my Lady. I would politely recommend to keep the door open and a manservant listening, however, Mistress. And of course you are safe with Master Forrester."

Kattala considered that.

"That's right, that is." She said, stretching her legs out in front of her chair, then relaxed. "All right, Ganiel, I don't see why not. Let her in."

Ganiel bowed, and escorted the woman in. She was tall and stocky, her hair long and such a dark green as to be almost black, in a pale green dress that covered her arms and throat. Ganiel eyed the woman with beady brown eyes, and slunk outside to listen at the door when she sat in one of the armchairs in the sitting room.

The woman flicked a spell at the doorway, and the noise from outside the room ceased.

"A spell against eavesdroppers. Nicely done." Link commented. The woman smiled faintly.

"I am Farore." She said simply.

"You're one of the Mad God's Saints." Kattala said quietly, "And Portia Bluewater refers to _Port_ Bluewater, as is the capital of Talon Island."

"Long ago." Farore agreed. "Does it stand still?"

"It's part of the Empire now." Kattala replied.

"Which empire is that? The Hastidean?"

"I don't know much about that. It isn't around nowadays, though. Most of the Continent is ruled by the Ansalian Empire."

"I see little Ansal has done well, then." Farore said with a thin smile. "But let us not talk of that. The Endless Cataclysm has begun, and each Goddess must choose a champion to represent her."

"You want Link." Kattala stated.

"Why not Kattala?" Link wanted to know, and Farore examined Kattala visually.

"She does have Shadow-Walker blood in her, yes."

"I can't." Kattala argued, "I'm bound to this place, I am."

"You are." Farore accepted, with a incline of her head. "You have been touched by the Mad God, and I know better than to meddle with his pets. But yes, you are bound to this world, and you will not escape it."

"Why Link?" Kattala asked in response.

"He is brave, but prudent. I trust he won't die as readily as some of my champions have done."

"Die?" Link wondered. Farore nodded solemnly.

"Courage does not always bring about survival." She said.

"What will I get in return?" Said Link.

"Peace." Kattala intoned gently.

"And an inner drive that will propel you even during the darkest of times."

"He doesn't need that." Kattala scoffed, and her friend frowned.

"It sounds good to me, actually." Link protested.

"You will be able to ignore pain, as well."

"Pain is necessary for health." Kattala responded with a scowl.

"That is where his prudence will step in." Farore argued. Link looked between the two girls, and sighed. This could only help his cause. If he spoke too much, his secret would be spent. If he waited too long, the Goddess might take offense. No way around it, really.

"I'll do it." He declared.

"You will?" Farore's hazel eyes were steady and intent on her new champion.

"Yes."

"Then as my champion, you may have my blessing." She reached out a glowing-green hand, and touched Link in the center of his forehead. For a moment he tasted sharp leaf smell, fragrant and growing, and then he felt like he could do anything, anything at all, and not even be tired when he was done.

Farore stared at him, eyes wide.

"You have changed, my champion." She said in shock. "You're no longer Prince Link of the Gerudo anymore."

"Did you change me?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"You changed on your own, through no action of mine. You are Link Forrester now. I suppose it will have to do." Farore commented idly. "Be strong, and brave, and you will succeed in your quest."

She stood, and disappeared from their sight.

"Fare you well," She whispered quietly, and left the mortal plane.

"I was warned not to live a lie too long and believe it too much." Link said to himself.

"Prince?" Kattala demanded, and Link smiled crookedly.

"Not by blood." He replied, standing up and walking over to his friend. She put her embroidery away, and wrapped her arms around his middle, giving him a squeeze. Link breathed in the peculiar smell of menthol, incense and beeswax that lingered on her person, reminding him of the graveyard, the workroom, and the roofs of Kakariko.

It felt too easy, too quick. Too simple. So quickly over. So unfinished.

What price would he have to pay for that? he wondered.

Everything would be all right, a voice said inside his head. The task ahead seemed easier than it actually was. How could he tread the line between drive and overconfidence? Could he drive others to match him?

Somewhere along the way he'd lost himself, and any vestiges of his childhood. Link Forrester was only what hadn't been left behind.

* * *

1. Yes, rain-shields are the Vanitian (that of Vanity) equivalent of umbrellas. It certainly makes more sense to them than putting cloth on sticks to keep the rain away.

2. The Mashnut Clinger is a kind of vine that grows in the mountains. It produces a nut that can be mashed up and eaten as a staple starch, much like chestnuts in Turkey. The vines draw most of their nutrients from the air, so they grow well on trellises. Most privately owned vertical space is trellised and vined.

3. My apologies for the last update. I have a new computer, which is nice because it's faster and it has a working battery, but I'm still not used to the different keyboard. Also, school has been hell. On the upside, I will be beginning my study at my new college this summer on June 20th. It will be inteesting what influence Social Psychology will have on this story.

4. We will be breaking out of the temporary holding period in the new chapter.

* * *

Please review!


	48. Eddies

My sincere apologies for taking a month to complete this chapter. Finals was hell.

This story is inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Seven: Eddies**

* * *

"What is this?" Zelda asked, looking at the little stick Impa had handed her. It was beautifully lacquered, of dark red with blackened carvings.

"It is a lady's dagger." Impa took it from her charge's hand, and slid the sheath off, revealing a blade about six inches long, the handle four inches long. The single edge was deadly sharp, the dull back thick enough to make the blade strong and durable. Impa easily slid the sheath back on, and returned it to Zelda. "This is what every Sheikah noblewoman would learn, when there was still a Sheikah presence in the Court. They wore it in their sash. The blood has thinned too much, these days."

"Can I wear it? And where?"

"I've had a thigh holster made, of silk and leather. Those skirmishes on the Imally border we'd heard about six months ago have since turned deadly. We are at war. My worries will be lightened if I know you've some means besides magic to aid you. There are rumors amongst the ranking soldiers in the Black Wing that there is a mage killer loose on the frontlines. They've only slain rebel mages as of yet, but every man and woman has their price."

Zelda regarded the knife in her hand quietly, considering its heft in her hands.

"You're going to teach me to fight, aren't you, Impa."

Impa mock frowned.

"Zelda, really. Why did you think I wouldn't teach you the Wand Dances? They were created for the lady's dagger."

"I can't hide the calluses I'll develop. The maids will notice. That's why you've had to restrict me to the open-hand dances."

"You'll file them off. It will be painful to fight so, but-"

"Better to fight and feel pain, than relegate myself to the sidelines, Impa."

The grey-haired woman smiled proudly at her charge's stubborn statement.

"What a Sheikah you would have made, my dear Princess."

Zelda smiled at that, looking down at the blade in her hand.

* * *

Dark pulled down containers of aloe gel and comfrey oil from the low shelf in Yelen's sunlit workroom, then mixed the two in a bowl with a wire whisk, making sure he used the right ratio for each. When Yelen got back from the privy, they would combine melted beeswax with the gel and oil, and seal them up in corked jars, to sell at the market as an ointment for minor burns, acne, and other skin irritants.

Day after tomorrow, was Moonsday. Market day.

Wickment was a nice town that relied mostly on rice farming to bring in money. Warm climate, balmy weather, regular rainfall. It was on the lakeshore, too, once the marshland had been drained enough to reclaim the land. The rural roads were raised narrow paths between flooded paddies, the workers tending the rice straightening up from their stoop to wave at passers-by. There was only one main street through the town itself, wide enough for two carts to pass by side by side.

The longer he stayed with Yelen Hodas, healer, the easier life got. She kept him busy, in both body and mind. They got up at sunrise to walk into town and buy fresh produce and bread, which also served as a day's exercise for Yelen. Then they returned to the cottage to mix medicines and to teach Dark basic anatomy from a heavy tome kept on a low shelf on the desk.

He was stuck with bones first. Next would come organs, Yelen assured him, then veins and arteries, and then muscles, tendons, cartilage, nerves, and skin.

She'd started him with the bones of the hand. Now, Dark had always thought of hands as rather basic things, simple and uncomplicated. But there were more bones than he'd thought, and now he had to learn how they fit together. Apparently there was more to healing than spells and potions.

The wrist bones. Carpals; scaphoid, lunate, triquetral, pisiform, trapezium, capitate, and hamate bones.

The bones of the palm. Metacarpals, one through five.

Finger bones. Proximal phalanges one through five. Intermediate phalanges one through five. And distal phalanges, the fingertips, one through five.

"Time for mixing, my lad." Yelen said, washing her hands in the outside sink, using homemade soap scented with citrus oils. Dark… no, it was Jon now. Dark had died back in that ambush in Drought Country. Jon nodded and marked his place in the heavy tome with a stray piece of gauze, and stood to get a block of beeswax from the pantry.

* * *

Link examined the box Kattala had presented him. It was made of unstained pine wood.

"Go on," She prompted, "I want you to open it, not sit there and stare."

"All right, you little nag." Link relented, and pulled the top off.

Sitting inside was a golden brown gambeson – a padded arming jacket, made of wool if his hands were right.

"Knights wear these under armor." He said, more a question than a statement.

"That's your armor, right there." She replied, gesturing to the garment. Link took the jacket out of the box.

It had a high collar that was flexible enough to fold down, and unfolded to its full length, he could tell it would fall to mid-thigh when he wore it. There were six dark brown leather straps that closed the front, one at the collar, each fastened with brass oval buttons. Two straps also adorned the sleeves, so the sleeves could be rolled up and secured, or so the sleeves could cling more tightly to his wrists. The inside was lined with something softer and less scratchy than wool, and, when Link tried them, the pockets were deep but not magically expanded.

"They'll always be warm and dry." Kattala said, "The pockets, I mean, and so will what you put in them."

Link nodded silently, and continued his examination.

There was a fox embroidered delicately on the chest, right over where his heart would be. Various symbols were stitched around the crafty creature, the thread used looked fragile, the same red-gold as Kattala's hair.

"Did you use hair as thread?" He asked incredulously, and she nodded.

"Had to. A magic-working as is that great needs something right from the maker. Blood in the dye, hair in the thread. It anchors the working, see."

The four square ivory pieces had animals roughly carved into them, the crevasses blackened with soot, sewn one to each shoulder, and one to each upper arm. There was a ram on the left arm, an ox on the left shoulder. A fish sat on the right shoulder, while a tiger was fastened to the right arm.

"It's padded with spelled leather – only magicked blades can cut through. But that's not the most important part. Watch-" Kattala placed her hand on the embroidered fox. "Vulpes," She said firmly and clearly, "Switch to ram."

Abruptly, the armored tunic turned red, almost a maroon color.

"When the Eater Ram is in charge, the cloth is most durable. Won't burn, neither. Vulpes, switch to fish."

The gambeson turned a deep indigo.

"When the Fish is in charge, the cloth is warmer, and waterproof. Vulpes, switch to ox."

The fabric became golden brown.

"The Ox is for repairs. As long as the fox is untouched, like, the rest can weave back like it was never gone. Vulpes, switch to tiger."

And finally, the tunic brightened into jungle green.

"The Tiger is for protection and cooling. No blade can get past it. Blunt force as is enough to crush bones won't feel as bad, more like a tap really."

Link took in a shaky, awed breath, brushing the fingertips of his left hand over the fox.

"Kat, this is amazing. Why do you insist on saving my life so often? That's what this going to do, you know."

"That was the point." But she smiled warmly, and nose or not, she was pretty, all fiery hair, golden skin and moss-soft eyes. Kattala smiled and stood, waving her hands at Link. "Put it on! I want to see the fit of it, if you please."

Link obeyed readily, slipping the jacket on over his shirt and buttoned up the gambeson. It had a comforting weight to it, but wouldn't slow him down in the slightest. He swung his arms to test freedom of movement – yes, good – no tightness at the shoulders.

"Thank you." He said, and Kattala grinned.

"It was for you, and worth it." She replied, then looked down, seemingly self-conscious in the moment. Then she let the side of her mouth quirk. "I benefit from making that armor too – it was a proper learning experience, right through."

"It's great." Link assured her.

"I'm glad." Was her simple reply.

* * *

Keen absently tapped the toes of his steel-shod boots on the packed ground as he waited for his orders. The Falcon's Sixteenth had made it safely to Loggershead, more or less. Ballyn Fields had been an absolute bloodbath, and the defeat of the Southern mages had only narrowly won the battle for the North.

Muiren and the other eight men were busy in the barracks, waiting.

After the heroics the Falcon's Sixteenth had pulled at Ballyn Fields, they'd been taken off the list of suicide missions. Supposedly.

Every nerve in Keen's body was alight, waiting for what would come next, for something new to react to. Where was his superior anyway? The man was twenty minutes late, breaking military protocol.

A fairly tall man with golden hair and cold grey eyes stepped into the tactics tent where Keen had been waiting. His clothing was finely made, and his unusually long ears drooped slightly. The emerald ring, with a family crest carved into it, made it clear this man – who couldn't be more than a year older than Keen – was a high-ranking noble.

"I am Sir Karlen Rauros of Rosethorn, a noble of the first rank, soldier. I am in command of the Twelfth Cavalry Regiment. Declare yourself." The man said arrogantly, in a tidy, proper Northern noble accent that made Keen feel very aware of his own crisp soldier's consonants and slurred foothill vowels.

Keen saluted, not needing to straighten up as he'd maintained perfect posture while he'd been waiting for the knight to arrive.

"I am Captain Ferrick Keen, in command of the Falcon's Sixteenth Division of the Royal Hylian Army. Hailing from Patcheem, my Lord."

"A foot solider, I see."

"Yes sir."

"You're very young to be a captain so soon."

"Yes sir."

"That was not a question, Keen. And address me as 'my Lord,' not 'sir.'"

"Of course, my Lord. Was there anything you wanted to know?"

"General Hasket has approved you to lead a company of foot soldiers to fight with the cavalry for the upcoming month. I am currently in command of the knights and cavalry being sent to Redmett on the border of Rainfall Province and Imally. The General seems to have faith in you. But I do not."

"My Lord?" Keen queried, raising a dark eyebrow.

"You were put in command of nine men, on a simple sabotage mission to a pyrite mine in enemy territory. You succeeded in your mission, yet you failed to report back to Briarsedge in a timely fashion, and thus missed the sacking of the city. You and your men were, in fact, completely absent from the stage of war for thirty days. I find it very _convenient_ that you so quickly became Captain, through the death of your superior. It was also convenient that your little delay let you avoid action when a vital stronghold was overrun. This makes me wonder, Captain. This makes me very curious how a Patcheem trainee with scanty approval from his training masters becomes Captain of a reknowned troop in the matter of three months."

"Am I being accused of spying, my Lord? Or some such deceit?" Keen asked, unable to remain stoic.

"If you like."

"Because there was nothing _convenient_ about my capture and interrogation by Imally rebels, Lord Karlen. I'm sure you'll understand why I did not punish my men for refusing to obey protocol when they hunted my captors down and recovered me. I'd be dead, otherwise, and those six mages on the ridge at Ballyn Fields didn't kill themselves, Sir."

"One can't be a very good man if one can't handle a good beating." Lord Karlen said with irritation. Keen pressed his lips thin, then began to unbutton his jacket with jerky movements. "Captain Keen! What are you doing? Stop that this instant!"

Keen's navy jacket fell to the ground, then he peeled his undone undershirt off his shoulders far enough that most of his arms could be seen.

"Knives and brands." He said, shrugging his shoulders to show the scars on both of his arms. The knife scars were cut in a saw-leaf pattern, the burns round and shiny – like red fruits on a white vine.

"They dislocated my elbow, and left my hands tied so I could not reduce it while in my cell. Then they put it back in its joint, and dislocated it again once I had healed. They whipped me. They drowned me. They starved me, refused to give me water. They ripped the nails off my toes. They applied stress positions. And yes, my Lord Karlen, they beat me." Keen whipped his undershirt up onto his shoulders, then picked his jacket up and put it back on. "I would have gladly given up that month so I and my men could defend Briarsedge. I'll not have it said that I am disloyal, my Lord. Not after what they did, and not after I said nothing of worth to them."

Karlen of Rosethorn stared at the man for a moment, and then dropped his eyes. Then, as if to make up for that submissive gesture, he raised his chin stubbornly.

"You have my apologies." He said stiffly, a faint flush of embarrassment pinking his cheeks. "I was wrong in my judgment. So! You will have to tell me how your men defeated those mages when dozens of others could not."

"I don't see any harm in revealing it." Keen said with a shrug as he buttoned his jacket and smoothed the collar, "It's not a secret. Magic can't touch me."

"What?" Karlen said, taken aback, "Surely that's not possible."

Keen smiled faintly at that.

"Indeed. At first I thought there was something wrong with me. Maybe there is. But that doesn't make sense when I found my men could also ignore magic with a little convincing. I think this could be worth examination, but we're at war, and there seems to be no time left for such things."

Karlen stroked his chin thoughtfully, considering.

"If it were possible for our men to disarm the South of its mages, and tricks, it would be a powerful weapon for our side. I will see that we have a theoretician mage to come to the front. And at the very least we'll train the Regiment in it. I don't care if the Generals focus on archers and cannons, and call men in their prime inexperienced – I've ideas enough, and at least I'm more flexible in my approach than those doddering farts."

Keen raised both brows high, fixing a firm smile on his lips carefully.

"My Lord, give credit where credit is due. So far they've kept us even with the South, against overwhelming numbers."

"And yet the South is not short on resources, and it's like cutting down bamboo – two more sprout as soon as you cut down one. Cutting down too many men dulls the blade." Karlen complained, seeming to forget entirely that he was treating a subordinate like an equal. He was too eager to speak with a man he thought sympathetic to his words. And perhaps Keen was.

The Patcheem native cocked his head, and smiled a little more.

"In that case, Lord Karlen, what do you think about arming soldiers with pikes?"

"To easily defeated by mounted men." The nobleman replied.

"Only if they're poorly trained. Put a countermeasure on the bottom of the haft, teach the infantry to wield them properly, and…"

"And they'll not be defenseless against a mounted cavalryman!" Karlen's eyes widened in realization. Keen nodded.

"Just so, my Lord."

* * *

Rillek Valmur was homesick, heartily sick of this war, and above all, sick of the rations he'd been eating for the past nine months. Nothing but rice gruel, salt fish, and green tubers, as well as anything he could get on his own. He was an Imally citizen, born and bred in Treefall itself, where the honorable Fran the Bastard himself had originated from.

While the Northern Army had a distinct hierarchy, what was now shaping into the Southern Liberation Front had only four tiers: rebel fighters at the lowest level, mages and captains who led the fighters on the ground, generals who were responsible for at least ten captains and who stayed mostly out of battle and behind the front lines, and finally, the Confederate of Southern Lords, who were gathering somewhere in Lake Hylia, it was rumored. Lake Hylia was the last Southern province to remain free of war. Consequently, it was up to that wealthiest province to provide the bulk of materials needed, particularly food. Any solider crippled was sent to the most Southern of all provinces, to work on producing more resources for the Liberation Front.

Rillek was only a lowly fighter himself, but he fancied he was almost as good as a mage, with navigation magic that had never led him or his fellow fighters astray. And of course, there was his ridge-cat partner Mura, who he had raised from a cub. Mura was a finely-molded tom, dappled stripes and tawny fur allowing the great cat to blend in with shady forest undergrowth and dry summer grass. Brave and hook-clawed, Mura was, his teeth just as sharp.

Goddesses, though. Rillek was tired of this war. He wanted to return to Treefall and his tidy job patrolling the various homesteads looking for Wolfos and making sure suspicious characters stayed well away from his territory. Freedom from unreasonable taxes and nobs breathing down your neck wasn't too much to ask for, was it?

Now he huddled in the dark of the night, on night watch. With Mura, he was _always_ on the darkest watch. The massive cat, eleven feet from nose to tail, sat patiently at his elvish partner's feet, great sleek head cradled on his paws.

The reinforcements from Gerudo Province were supposed to arrive some time before dawn. It was Rillek's task to watch for their arrival from the southern edge of the freedom fighter's camp. The Gerudo warriors were meant to approach from the west, but one never knew.

Rillek was gently rubbing the sweet spot under Mura's chin when the ridge-cat's ears perked and the tom made a low rumble in the back of his throat.

"Easy, Mura." Rillek cautioned, and the cat's ears laid flat. The freedom fighter became aware of the soft pad of boots in the direction of the woods. Many would not be able to detect it, but when one lived with a soft-pawed feline, it was simply a matter of course.

The rebel looked into the depths of the patch of woods, and saw lightstone lanterns, with their eerie white-green glow, swaying and dancing in the blackness of night. These lights grew closer and closer, until the ridge-master could discern individual shapes among the silhouettes off the trees. Finally, the group came within earshot. Rillek patted the ruff of his partner.

"C'mon old boy, let's get up." The Hylian said, and Mura agreed with a groan. Together they stood.

"Oy!" He called out softly, "More in from the west? How many of there are you?"

The lead figure came into view. The others stayed back.

"Sixty-eight from the Gerudo Province." Came a low woman's voice. She came into view, leading a sleek, leggy horse and rider. Her hair, a very dark brown, was cut mannishly short to her earlobes, eyes bright scarlet in the camp firelight. On the horse was a redheaded woman, golden eyes intent, a massive bow slung on her back.

"Welcome to the Crowfield, lady Gerudo." Rillek said with a nod. "You'll all need to register with me so my ridge-cat doesn't think you're an enemy. We're exclusively on camp guard."

The woman nodded.

"Fair enough." She said curtly. The unusually tall woman turned to the girl on the horse "Reya, come along." The girl, Reya, saluted sharply, fist over her heart.

"Yes, Lady General Aru." Reya leaned her weight into the left stirrup and swung her other leg over the massive battle-saddle and stepped down onto the ground with a metallic clank. "I'd heard of this from Elkaruu." She walked over to Mura, and held out her hand to be sniffed by the massive ridge-cat. Rillek sent a little prod of encouragement down the bond between him and his cat partner, impressing on him that this was an ally, and not an enemy. Mura's ears twitched, then perked, whiskers going forward, and he licked the palm of Reya's palm with a pleased rumble. Aru held out her hand, and Mura took in her scent as well.

"So that's how it's done." Aru commented, and once Rillek was given the scroll that named all sixty-eight Gerudo warriors, she got all of the women to give their scent to the ridge-cat protecting the camp.

It was an hour to dawn by the time when Mura had greeted all the Gerudo allies. Rillek sighed, and thanked Reya when she brought him a roasted tuber seasoned with pepper from the mess tent. Once the Gerudo women had been processed, they'd gone off to eat, while he had to remain and introduce each woman to his ridge-cat.

"Oh, thank you very much." He said, cradling the flower root in his scarred hands.

"It's not a problem, Valmur, was it?"

"Yes miss. Rillek Valmur." He took a healthy bite of tuber, which was mealy, slightly moist, and had a taste reminiscent of potatoes and weak tea. Mura had hunted down a rather feeble forest fowl a day earlier and so did not need to eat yet. "I was wondering, what is that noise when you walk?"

The Gerudo girl grinned.

"Had a run-in with a Lizalfos when I was little." She pulled the leg of her billowy trousers up, revealing a left leg made of finely worked metal, a hinge serving for a knee, while a slot ran along the middle of the shin. She rapped the metal with a fist, making it clang mournfully. "It doesn't work as well as the real thing, but I can still fight on horseback. And watch this-" She locked the mechanical knee, squeezed her thigh muscles, and a blade emerged from the slot, suddenly turning her metal prosthetic into a weapon.

"That's really something. How does it work?" Rillek wanted to know, and Reya smiled, flexing her false foot and making the blade retract.

"It has to do with magic, and the wires that are attached to the part of my leg that's flesh." She replied.

"I wouldn't know about that." He sighed.

"But Imally is renowned for their clockworks, isn't it…" Reya said with a look of confusion.

Rillek shook his head.

"But I come from _Treefall_. Not from the capital of Imally, the city of Imally itself. Not even Sideland or Edgetown. Sure, the forest's been tamed for seven years, but you won't find more'n farmers and woodsmen around Treefall. Clockwork's Imally City's gimmick, not a homesteader's craft."

"Hmm." Reya said, munching on her own green tuber. As they sat together in silence under the grey haze of Luna's light, Rillek realized she was quite attractive, really, and while the bridge of her nose was very thin and smooth, it wasn't hooked or harsh like the men had said of Gerudo women. Muscles swelled her arms gently – this was no sheltered city girl, nor a spoiled nobby lady – she had the strength of a homestead woman and a ridge-mistress combined.

"Hey, listen – there's another two days until battle is due." Rillek tried hopefully, "Mura and I have our own tent. We could have a bit of fun, before. If you don't mind."

Reya smiled uneasily.

"Sorry," She said, "But no. First of all, I'm underage."

"What?" Rillek Valmur asked, taken aback. She was clearly a woman, if short and stocky.

"It's these suckers." She said, making an obscene gesture at her chest, which was, well. Quite well grown. And nicely shaped. "Early budding, my mother Dinah says. I'm fourteen. And second, I don't have any interest in men."

"Oh." Rillek said with some disappointment. He was a little dismayed that he'd mistaken such a young girl for a woman of nineteen or twenty, five years younger than his own twenty-four summers. "So, are you and Lady General Aru Redeye…?"

"What? No!" And Reya grinned, shaking her head as she did so, "Din above, I wish! No. She's a very good friend, but she's picky, and only likes men. Such a shame…"

"The lady General does seem quite formidable." Rillek admitted, remembering the woman's brisk impatience, the muscles bulging in her arms, and the easy way she held herself as she stood or walked, the considering look she had given Mura when she'd first saw him.

"And _how_…" Reya agreed with a sigh, and Rillek let himself relax, and began to cosset his ridge-cat, rubbing gently around the rounded ears, scritching under the chin, and stroking the smooth fur between the ears. Mura closed his eyes in contentment and began gurgle out a rumbling purr.

"Have you heard any of the rumors about the North's Wolf? Everyone seems to know of him, but I work the night shifts, so I always seem to miss the bulk of the gossip."

"I've heard of him." Reya said, "How much do you know?"

"Only that he's an accomplished mage who took out six of the South's best magic-wielders on the battle at Ballyn Fields." Rillek ventured, watching his new acquaintance frown in distaste.

"I wouldn't say he's accomplished. Maybe uncanny. The Wolf has a thick enough hide to ignore spells cast upon him – sorry, I'm being metaphorical – he probably has some kind of magic shield. He leads a band of a dozen or so, all able to wield magics without a mage's ear clip. They managed to sneak into the heart of Imally and destroy a strategically important mine, and survived the sacking of Briarsedge. And he got past the line of defense at Ballyn Fields, climbed the ridge and slaughtered the six mages we were relying on to win the battle. One man turned the tide of battle. No one knows what he looks like. The accounts differ. Some say he's tall, others short and stocky, some are sure he's darkly colored, others say he's as pale as snow in the mountains. But everyone agrees he has eyes like crazed fire, and that even the North doesn't know what to do with him." Reya sat back on her heels with a deep breath. "And he will be there, fighting against us in two day's time, at dawn."

"What will we do? I certainly can't do anything, not stuck here with a ridge-cat to keep clean of human blood."

"I don't know. He's only one man, leading twelve. Judging the tents across the Crowfield, we outnumber those Northerners by four to one. Even if more arrive in the next two days or so, the troops from Sideland ought to arrive at noon tomorrow. We'll still have thrice as many on our side." Reya took a deep breath, then rubbed at her eyes. "I've stayed awake too long. I think I'd be the better for a few hour's sleep. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Rillek replied gently, "It is late. If you want to talk again, I'll be posted here again tomorrow from twelve to six. Middle of the night shift, as usual."

"Goodnight, Rillek Valmur."

"Goodnight, lady Reya."

Reya yawned deeply, stretching, and Rillek took the opportunity to admire her figure briefly before returning to his ministrations towards Mura, who tucked his body closer to his human partner, and then invitingly rolled on his side so his belly could be rubbed.

* * *

Kattala was in her workshop, busily painting lacquer on a wooden soundboard, when her master interrupted her.

"Kat, my dear." Master Tangle Ferres said, making her look up from her work and frown.

"Bit busy, Master Tangle." She commented, and Tangle sighed.

"Take a look at these messages – they've come over the leylines from an unknown location in the South. They're definitely coded. The operators can't determine where they were sent from."

"What?" She looked perplexed. "Surely that isn't right." Kattala blew gently on the drying shellac lacquer before setting it down on the drying rack on her bench. She carefully washed her hands before drying them with a cloth, then held out an absent hand for the thin message scroll Tangle was carrying. He handed it to her, and she slit the sealing tape with her thumbnail.

Quickly unrolling it, she examined the message.

"It's in code," Kattala agreed, then squinted at the sigils scrawled out at the bottom of the message that signified the various lines it had travelled through – beginning with reception location, and working through each leyline crossroad the message had passed through, back to the location from which it had been sent. "None too good with code myself – but Link likes puzzles so he might be glad to help. Hunh. Reception station is Ferres in Kakariko, junction at Hacklehead, Norsewam between Hernt and Rexlake – that's in the boonies, that is – junction along Riverside, junction at Fordilleh, little line as is near Garrow. Major line _all_ the way to Loggershead, and then passes through one channel the operators don't know nor recognize. Still, this had to be sent from a line as isn't used much. Initial energy was sustained across _half_ the country _without_ tapping _nor_ taxing the lines it went through as proxy. And no sign of any recharge or resending."

"I'd gathered as much." Tangle said, and unrolled a map of Hyrule on the workbench. It had been carefully detailed to show all of the primary and secondary leylines in the country. His plump finger traced the route the coded message had taken, stopping at Loggershead. "We'd send a message back to the Loggershead station if it would do any good, but the operators have their hands full down there with the war right on their doorstep."

"Could it be a redirected message from the Royal Army?" Kattala asked, cocking her head inquisitively.

"It's not a military cipher. No, this is definitely civilian, my dear. I think to get our answer, you'll have to go into the leyline."

"_No_." Kattala groaned, thumping an emphatic fist on the map. "It gives me such a headache. Whenever I do, it's like there's a drum as is pounding in my head, and my eyes water and my bones _ache_. Just decipher the ruddy thing and make a guess as to where it was sent from."

"Sorry." Tangle insisted, completely unrepentant. He rolled up the map and the message and gently put a hand on Kattala's elbow. She got up, and followed him out of the workroom.

"Where's Link?" She queried, as they walked down the hall.

"Exercising his gelding, I think."

"Ah." They made their way to the cellar stairs. Since leylines were all underground, leyline stations had to have some kind of basement. A very deep basement. There were three flights of stairs to descend from the ground floor before reaching the actual station.

The eight technicians looked up from their positions as the Master and Mistress of the manor entered the room – two technicians coding the outgoing messages, one tapping out the messages with a copper rod on a line-stone. The other two men were busy deciphering incoming messages, while the other two was listening to the chimes of the message bell and hastily scrawling down the rhythm it produced. The final man sorted the final result into a wall of cubbyholes.

"Close the cellar door and open it up, lads." Tangle said, "She's going in." The coding technician nodded, and pressed the copper rod to the stone floor when his fellow worker sealed off the station room. A large stone block moved aside, and the room was filled with the cold/hot rush of raw, elemental magic. Kattala knelt on the floor next to the block and shoved her fingers into the packed earth the block had revealed.

Immediately every hair on her body stood on end. The hair on her head was too long to do so. She focused, gritting her teeth together with a pained grunt. She pulled a thick tendril of her power out of her essence, then dipped it into the leylines like she did when putting magic into whatever she was crafting. The leylines seized the tendril greedily, and sucked her power bodily into the magical channel system that served as the veins of Vanity. As she whipped through the lines, she managed to keep track of where she was passing.

_Reception station is Ferres in Kakariko._

_Junction at Hacklehead. _

_Norsewam between Hernt and Rexlake._

_Junction along Riverside._

_Junction at Fordilleh, near Garrow, very small._

_Major line all the way to Loggershead._

_STOP._

_Where is the next line? Aftertaste of bitterness, stale magic, circulated and recirculated and untapped. Fresh air, jungle damp, hot sun, strange birds calling._

_Magic, in the ground and the trees and the air. Strange calling. Insistent. _

_Pull out fast. Fast._

_Unknown line to Loggershead._

_Junction at Fordilleh. _

_Junction past Riverside._

_Norsewam secondary line._

_Reception station is Ferres in Kakariko._

Kattala drew her fingers out of the earth, flexing them to relieve the burning, needling sensation from the leyline's power. What was a leyline but a channel of Vanity's essence? She could mentally navigate them with little difficulty – making her magic part of the world's.

"Forest." She told Tangle, still kneeling on the stone floor, "And not just any, but a right jungle, hot as Selen. I'd recognize the taste of it anywhere. That message came from the Lost Woods, I'd bet." Kattala stood, and wobbled from the rush of blood back to her head. Tangle steadied her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Here, take this, my dear."

She took the capsule he offered her, and crunched the pain pill down.

"Thank you, father." The strawberry-blonde said, aware of the five technicians watching, who mustn't know her master was not her true father, for fear of losing the manor and the leyline station to Great-Aunt Melbina.

"You're welcome, my sweet. Now go find Link and see if he can decipher that message." Kattala nodded at Tangle's words, taking the message and leaning heavily on the stair rail as she slowly headed up the cellar stairs. She had to rest at the top of the landing.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and her mouth wobbled. It hurt, it wasn't just her head, or her bones. Her magic sang too loudly for her body to absorb easily. It felt like she was full to bursting, and it was all her slight frame could do to hold it all in. Why did she have to touch the lines?

A passing servant saw her weaving unsteadily down the hallway and assisted her in remaining upright.

"Let me help you, Mistress Katerin." She said, a full head taller than the thirteen-year old mistress of the house.

"Thank you, Herra." Kattala said gratefully, sagging slightly, "I'm headed to the sitting room on the second floor."

"Of course, Mistress." Herra replied, and together the two climbed the grand stairs in the manor foyer. When Kattala was comfortably seated in a burgundy armchair with a high back, she looked up at the servant.

"Can you bring a message to Master Link, Herra?"

"Of course, my lady."

"Please let him know as to come here after he's done in the stableyard, thanks."

Herra nodded, and left when she was politely dismissed by the young girl.

Even after four years of it, Kattala still could not wrap her head around her sudden reversal of fortune. She'd gone from sleeping on a rug on her uncle's kitchen hearth to actual mattresses stuffed with real feathers, not just heather or straw. Meals came regularly, good, healthy food. She could eat meat as often as three times a week, could focus entirely on her studies and craft, not burdened by a long day of household chores that had often stretched into the night. Here she was lonely, but respected, if not liked.

All this had come from Master Tangle, who was fascinated with her essence manipulation abilities and her strange connection with the leylines within and without Hyrule. All she had to was learn quickly, work hard, and obey her master, no matter what he wanted her to do. It was not right to ask for more.

Kattala fell asleep in her chair as she waited, despite the pinprick buzzing in her extremities, well and fully exhausted.

* * *

_To Link, who lives in the Desert, where there are no trees, nor rain, nor pollen that dances in the air._

_Where did you go? Why don't you talk to me any more? The ocarina I gave you is broken, I can tell. The pieces are left far to the north, beyond the flat lands where there is nothing but grass and not enough trees to shade it. I can hear how many grown people there are, how many houses. A forest of houses. It is colder there, and the rain falls more than in the place called a desert, but less than the rainforest here. But I sing for you, and play my mind so far away with my flute, and you are not there. You haven't talked to me in fifty moons, Link. Where are you now? I will sing my song through the root system of the earth, until you find me again._

_But maybe I won't be here still. When you get this message-song, come to the forest and find me. I am dying – the other children can't save me. They don't know how, but I know you will. There is not much time left. In ten moons I will be gone._

_No forest-child has ever gone away like I will. I don't know what will happen. Where do the birds and fish go when we eat them? Do they go into the sky to play with the star-fish? Or do they go down into the ground to sleep? _

_Surely you know these things, Link. The tree-guardians know many things they don't tell the forest-children. You know many things, Link._

_Link, I'm scared. Find me; follow the red-rock stream into the heart of the forest, to the great tree that is hollow. The dancing pollen that drifts in the air will not kill you like it did your mother when I last saw you._

_Please, Link. Come to me._

_Your very first friend,_

_Saria._

_But you say Sariya._

_From the forest to the rock hills by the Firemouth, this is my message to you…_

Link's hands shook as he decoded the message. It used musical notes as a cipher, one he had long used with Sariya. The waiting to heal was over. It was time for action.

* * *

He was here. Kattala did not need the help of her friends to know that. She could smell his frustration on the wind that always blew through the cemetery, stirred by restless souls.

There was a screech from the locked iron gates that fenced off the graveyard from the road to Kakariko.

"Kattala! I know you're here, even if Dampe says you're not." Link shouted, kicking the gate again. "I can't stay any longer!"

He could not. She knew that.

"She needs me, Kat!"

Yes, his friend Saria did.

_But you forgot her. _She thought, tears rolling down her face as she hid in the Morisam family's mausoleum so that Link couldn't find her. _You'd known her all your childhood, your special friend. And you forgot her._

_And if you forgot someone like that, if you rarely speak even of your people…_

_Who'd remember me?_

The tears came harder now. Kattala bit her knuckle to stifle the sobs that wracked her slight frame, all sense of self-worth leaving her.

Better to be remembered, than loved and forgotten. Her friends all told her that.

"At least let me say goodbye, Kattala!"

No.

No, no, no, nononono_no_.

"Kattala!"

Saying goodbye would make it clean, somehow. Would provide a fitting end. Closure.

She wanted raw, bitter regret.

"Fine!" He yelled after a long, furious, agonizing wait, turning away. "Be that way! I'm going now. I am."

Kattala forced herself to still her hitching breaths to listen to her only friend walk away, crunching footsteps fading.

All that was left of their friendship was the tears on her face and the armored gambeson on his back. The foreign-born girl stopped holding back, doubling over and clutching her middle in grief, keening quietly.

She'd liked Link. Really she had. She didn't really want to hurt him like this. But for all that, she was at some basic level, still a child. If a quiet, solemn one who'd never been allowed to play with other children, and so she'd turned to the only sources of affection available to her. Ones most other people couldn't see or understand. She'd become an adult in miniature, one without the experience of an actual childhood to give her wisdom on such matters as friends.

Link had to leave. And she could not follow. And he could not stay. And it hurt to lose her only friend. All the more because now she knew what she had been missing, what her first friends could not give her.

So for all her manners and learning, she had acted childishly for once, and made certain that through her actions, Link hurt just as much as she did.

Cold bone caressed her shoulders, the neatly stacked bones of the Morisam family reforming into distinct skeletons. Their mandibles clicked in agitation as they took in her heady emotions. One tried to wipe her wet face with a piece of shroud. Finger bones stroked through her hair, while the others hovered around her in concern.

Kattala sat and held her arms out, wordlessly, mindlessly seeking comfort from the only friends who would never forget her, who would do anything for her simply because she was there. The closest Stalfos, whose funeral clothes were still mostly intact, wrapped her in a bony embrace, rocking her back and forth.

She breathed in the scent of dust, decay, and incense, and let her tears flow free where the living could not see her break.

* * *

"_The end . . .  
Is just a little harder when brought about by friends.  
I must be mad thinking I'll be remembered - yes  
I must be out of my head!  
Look at your blank faces – my name will mean nothing  
Ten minutes after I'm dead!"_

The Last Supper, Jesus Christ Superstar ~ Andrew Lloyd Webber.

* * *

1. Yes, there is such a thing as embroidery with hair for thread. It's done in traditional Chinese crafts.

2. The reason why Rillek Valmur cannot fight in battle is because ridge-cats cannot kill humans. They might wound if they are threatened, but will not instinctually kill. Men who are partnered with ridge-cats are referred to as ridge-masters, and serve as a kind of patrolling law enforcement in the South.

3. How the rumors of Keen have spread!

4. Some people have commented on my views on homosexuality. I am bisexual, and don't see much difference between straight and gay love. Yes, homosexuality is not a sound scheme if one wants to reproduce. I've had my share of both attractions, and will have been with my only serious boyfriend for a whole year in early June.

5. I'm sorry this took so long. But wow! 555 reviews! School is over for the moment, and summer school at my new school will begin on June 20. Ah… The end is within sight, but not quite within reach.

* * *

Please review. It makes me feel like I can know all the people who read this story. And I do so adore my readers.


	49. Undertow

I know. It's been far too long. My excuses are in the author's notes at the end of the chapter. Please enjoy this overdue addition to COTS.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Eight: Undertow

* * *

Link paid nearly no attention at all to his journey from Kakariko to the inner side of Cragshead Mountain, too angry and heartsick to see straight. It was lucky Deste was both intelligent and obedient, as well as happy to be on the move again, as a naughtier horse wouldn't have travelled half the distance the gelding had, with such a distracted and inattentive rider.

The liar's tunic Kattala had made was very comfortable when it was golden, cool enough in the late spring sun, but warm enough to let Link ignore the cold breeze off the mountain.

Why had she disappeared? Why hadn't she let him say goodbye? Was it not important to her? Kattala had said he was the only friend she'd ever had…

Maybe, maybe she didn't know how friendship worked. Yes, that could be it.

No. He wasn't going to make excuses for it. It was too cruel. He was too angry to feel any sort of sympathy.

Rather than ford the Zora River right off, Link elected to cross it farther upstream, where he could reach the Lost Woods without heading into territory where the revolution was going on. It got rainier the further he ventured south, which was completely expected, since he was entering Rainfall Province.

As one went south, as well as closer to the interior of Hyrule, the Curled Backbones lost their height, and the few mountains with snowcaps this late in the season were hazy and distant behind closer peaks and ranges. The Eastern End of the Backbones was more volcanically active than the Western End, and the bedrock of the region was a strange mix of basalt, shading down towards limestone the farther one followed the Zora River upstream.

The weather was dreadful. The nights were still and misty, the mornings sunny and breezy. But not long after eight in the morning, clouds rolled in, and rain fell steadily and sluggishly until the sun went down at eight.

At last Link reached Riverside, a shady town aptly named for its location right on the shore of the fast-running Zora River. The houses were roofed in tin – thatch would only molder here, and slate was a precious commodity not found in this land of limestone. Nightfall was already upon them, dark and moist. Across the wide river, the lights of the great city Hangonver lay wreathed in evening fog, perched atop a promontory overlooking the river. Smaller huts spilled down the outcropping's slopes, many built on piers and docks stretching out into the river itself. Riverside's own huts reached out to those of the city's across the river, and they too squatted on wooden piers in the cold, rich waters of the mountain's runoff.

There were no walls protecting Riverside. As Link walked through the grotty, muddy streets, he could hear fishermen calling across the water as they brought in the evening's catch. It took some searching along winding alleys, but he eventually found the tavern he'd been recommended.

One Illik Haskar, a ruddy-faced low merchant, had gladly let Link follow his cart all the way from Miska, south to Harpettua, a full week's journey, in exchange for nothing more than good conversation and music the whole trip long. Illik had a generous cousin who worked in the Scaly Scallywag, and might be inclined to give Link a discount. Supplies he had, and money aplenty. But nevertheless, he felt the necessity to pinch his rupees. Who knew how long he still had to go? He could do it, without a doubt. But it was probably best to be prudent, as Farore had said.

The Scaly Scallywag was a wooden dump on the river's bank, not quite on the docktown, but close. The tavern's sign had been repainted recently – the painted Zora-man was painted in bright colors, the caudal fin curled flippantly, the fish-man pulling a face, his hands gesturing rudely.

Link entered the tavern and pushed through the nightly crowd to find the tavern master. A room was arranged, and then the youth sat down to enjoy a dinner consisting of chicken rice stew, a hard roll, and stewed greens.

Markus Haskar was his cousin in redheaded duplicate, and just as good natured. It was early in the evening, and so Link passed the night riddling with grown fishermen until the tavernmaster deemed it late enough and chivvied Link upstairs to his room. It was small, only a bed, a nightstand, and a chair under a small window that overlooked the tin roof of the building next door, and faced in the direction of the docks. The moist night breeze was ripe with the smell of wet wood, river mud, pitch, and rotting fish.

Link sighed deeply, and prepared himself for bed.

* * *

The night was strangely cold for near-summer, wind whipping gracelessly across heavily-forested Imally's only plain – the Crowfield. Whispy stripes of feathery cloud flew across the sky, egg-shaped Seles blinking in and out of sight, Luna hidden in the dark part of its phase.

The two miles between the Northern and Southern war camps seemed like an inky sea of shadow and tall grass rippling in the dark. Each individual campfire seemed to float like a little boat on an uneasy current, smoke stripped away before it could spread its comforting scent of fire and warm food.

Keen squatted close to one of the many campfires, so close he could feel the night pressed cold against his back. He took a long swig of water from his canteen.

"Mind if I have some of that? I've left mine in the tent." Muiren said, and Keen handed the tin flask to his second-in-command.

"Do you think I'm hard-hearted, Wald?" The captain asked, almost rhetorically.

Muiren frowned.

"What? What's brought this on?"

"One of those mages. Up on the ridge. He was a young lad, only fourteen, thirteen. I killed him without thinking about it. But," And here his brow furrowed as he remembered, "As he died, he asked for his father. Just a kid, and I didn't see it until he was cold. Dark was always the one to feel things, of the two of us. He felt things very deeply. I was the one to take action, to plan ahead. There was a balance there. But now, when I fight, I don't see their faces. Their humanity. Maybe I never did. Now, all I see when I look at a rebel is the sword through Dark's chest. And the way he crumpled on the ground. All I see is those men, my captors, and what they did to me. Theirs faces as they did it. They watched me as they beat me, as they cut my arms and then mopped away the blood so they could cut again, as they branded me, as if I was something repulsive yet infinitely fascinating. Like a glittering beetle or a particularly impressive locust. And now I wonder, if I could even stomach this at all, all of this war, blood and sweat, shit and _filth_, if my kin had _ever_ had a care at all about me."

"You never send letters to the leyline stations." Muiren said, remembering what he'd seen of his captain when the opportunity to send something in the post arose.

"They wouldn't read them. They'd burn them in the hearth without wondering what was in them. To my family, I'm just an obligation and a burden. An unwanted mouth to feed. My mothers wouldn't care I've made captain, or what the South's calling me? The Wolf of the North. And his pack of nine. Suppose you'd be my beta." There was a companionable silence as Wald sat down next to his captain.

"What do you see ahead, after the war ends? Captain."

"I haven't thought that far." Keen admitted. "Either I die, or they win, and I'm sent somewhere else, or we win, and we stay here to maintain the King's authority."

"You're not as impervious to my luck as you might think, Captain. I like the sound of 'war hero'. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe we'll win, and the King will lower the taxes on the South, give them a little more freedom."

Keen raised a single querying brow.

"Listen to yourself. Do you actually believe that?"

Wald smirked, and ran a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair.

"Course not. King's not that forgiving. He'll want to crush the dissent. And we're probably going to die. Maybe even tomorrow."

"That's the Walden Muiren I know. Pessimistic to the bone." Keen sighed.

Wald grinned lopsidedly in response.

"Right. Still, it wouldn't be too bad to live, however unlikely. I'd like a smart girl with a bit of fire in her. Blonde and curvy is a preference. Good with her letters, and earthy."

"That's more realistic than half the men in the troop." Keen commented, then scowled when Wald stared. "What? I have ears, however short." He said defensively.

"Realistic? I don't know about that. What kind of girl would you like for yourself?"

"What, you think I'm interested in girls? What kind of Patcheem boy would I be if I liked _women_?"

"For the Triad's sake, I know you're not entirely an invert, Captain. People are morons. It's quadrupartner polygamy, in Patcheem. We have enough generals and officers from there that at least soldiers should know that."

"That's why most soldiers are privates, not lieutenants, Wald. Or aren't you forgetting yourself, hm?" Keen lifted up a leg from where he'd sprawled before the fire, and prodded Wald's foot with his own.

"Right, right. Anyway, that's not the point. I want to know now. What kind of girl would the _famous_ Captain Ferrick Keen, be interested in?"

"That's Wolf of the North to you, scallywag."

"Yes, yes, of course, Captain Wolf. The girl you'd like."

"The girl that I'm never going to meet because I'll die tomorrow."

"And don't you sound pleased with it. Get on with it. You're not admirable enough to make me wait much longer."

"Fine." Keen stopping smiling and stared into the fire, the gold around his pupils especially stark in the light. "I suppose I'd like a clever girl, one I could have long talks with and not feel superior. With a heart enough for the world, and small enough to pick up and carry her like it's nothing. She'd have to be willing to travel, always busy, always industrious. And a smile like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Of course, she'd have to like me too, and I'm sure that would be the problem in the end." His mouth quirked into a bitter smirk, and in that moment, he looked very tired for a young man. Truthfully, he looked closer to twenty-three than his actual seventeen years of life.

"I think," Wald said quietly, "That being a war hero will be more appealing than a pretty face and pretty words, Captain."

"So you say. For all that I'm good at it - the soldiering - I wish there wasn't a need for it. I'm so tired of all this hate, and death. I'm tired of the blood, and the orphans that are broken and left behind. I'm tired of the greed. The refugees and their grey faces, the gutted cities and their burnt bricks. The animals war turns us all into, whether we fight with teeth bared, or flee in terror instead. I'm sick of the injustice, the way people have no loyalty to those who watch over them as soon as they think they've been slighted. All they think about is themselves, these tiny little people who can't see beyond their own noses."

"Captain…"

"And the Goddesses! They're no better. We're just staggering around in the dark, with no light to guide us. They're only voices in the dark. We still won't see the truth."

"That's blasphemy, Keen. They'll strike you down." Wald said in warning.

"Let them!" Ferrick Keen said in defiance, "Just let them try. They haven't succeeded yet, and I'll not succumb to their ploys. No. I'll fight this war. I'll do my sworn duty till it's done. But I tell you now, if I live, I will walk Vanity until I find the ones who really made the world, and see the truth of this forsaken world with my own eyes."

"You've gone mad." Wald said, shocked. "Absolutely gone. I was worried this would happen-"

Keen grinned crookedly, and for once, he did not chuckle to himself like he so often did.

"Mad? Sometimes, Wald, I'm the _only_ thing in this world that's _sane_."

* * *

The squeaky screel of rivergulls woke Link up, followed by the smell of baking oatcakes and the sharp scent of slightly off-fish and strangely, the scent of vinegar. He rolled over, trying to earn a little more sleep in the early dawn hours, but it was fruitless. Sighing gustily, he crawled out of his (admittedly lumpy) bed. There was a ewer full of river water, and a smaller one of well water. Link washed with the river water, a ragged wash cloth, and a small bowl of soft soap, then washed his face and cleaned his teeth with the purer, cleaner well water.

He put on an off-white long-sleeved shirt, some brown trousers, and buttoned his liar's tunic up halfway to his throat, and then pulled on stockings and his boots. A white and grey knit hat completed the act of dressing. Link gathered up his belongings into his hold-all pack, and headed down narrow, rickety, squeaking stairs to the main room of the tavern.

He enjoyed the oatcakes served for breakfast, which were fried in butter on a griddle. Dried fruit was served on the side, as was some kind of small fish that had been picked in vinegar and was so sour it made Link's tongue curl in surprise. The Zora man who was sitting next to Link at one of the many tables laughed heartily when Link made a face and hurriedly downed half a glass of juice to wash away the taste.

"There, there!" The Zora, who had introduced himself as Peg Tooth, slapped Link's back enthusiastically as the boy gagged down the rest of the fish on his plate. "You must be an Outsider to Rainfall Province. Wingfish is never cooked around these parts. Ruins the fish, you see." Peg was an itinerant fisherman, apparently from upstream Rainfall Province. It seemed the locals of the province navigated by the location of the river as their foremost landmark.

Link, ever friendly, eventually got Peg to speak of his people, after much pleading and earnest queries.

According to what he was able to find in the Hyrule Castle library, Zora were usually rather taciturn in the presence of landwalkers, as they called the non-aquatic races of Hyrule, which was somewhat hypocritical, since spending about an hour out of water transformed their finned tails into workable, if clumsy legs. The Zora people had shunned landwalkers until thirty years ago, when their king and the Hylian King Rolens had signed a cooperation treaty, agreeing to be allies, and promoting a bargain where Zora assistance of drowning Hylians would be rewarded with salt – a vital part of Zora diet, that was most easily produced on land by cultivating the salt wrack plant.

When he mentioned some of this, Peg merely shook his head, finally warming to his topic.

"Only the Exiles agreed to the treaty. There are three kingdoms of the Zora. The Exiles, who don't live in the Sourcewater. The Conch, who attack outsiders who sully their territory by trespassing. And the Pearl, who live in the great Fountain Glacier Lake, across the Geyserland, who have not been heard from for a century at least. Y'see, boy, the three kingdoms each worship a different being. We Exiles, being enlightened, worship Nayru, who taught that better living can be had in the downstream of Zora River, and in Lake Hylia. There is fish aplenty, and river kelp and lake weed enough to feed the entire people. But the Conch and Pearl, being two peoples without the sacred knowledge of the Blue Lady, refuse to leave the shelter of the Sourcewater, which provides the River with all of its water. The Conch, the most ignorant, worship the great shark Jarzun. They offer the creature living sacrifices to satisfy him, so he will drive their enemies away. The Pearl, on the other hand, dwell so far upstream there is little to eat in those cold waters. Everything they do is measured. Well, at least we think they do. It's been a long time. They believe in the old ways – the following of the One Water."

"The One Water?" Link queried, and Peg Tooth stopped there, looking away shiftily with shiny black eyes.

"I've said too much already. It is not for landwalkers to know." He returned to his pickled fish and stewed kelp (which was the standard diet for Zora, apparently) and would say no more. After a long moment, Link shrugged and finished the last bits of his dried pear and raisins. Soon Peg Tooth had to return to his fishing job, and informed Link that it was much easier to reach Ukah (the town closest to where Link was to enter the Lost Woods) by boat, than by riding upstream and crossing Conch territory. It was neither safe nor fast, as rain fell so heavily close to the Sourcewater that the soil was muddy and marshy all year round.

Link followed his new friend's advice, and bartered his way onto a large rowboat that had enough room for Deste. With a generous amount of money, and the offer of music to pace the rowers, the crew accepted him on, and the River Lion was soon gliding away from the pier, oars knifing into the water, prow pointing upstream.

* * *

The nights in the Crowfield were cold, unusually cold, especially since it was still late summer. Hours to dawn, Keen roused his troop from sleep – they were now referring to themselves as his pack, which was typical of them, really. They were ready. There was a gleam in their eyes that had not been there before, a straightness to their spines, a more confident carriage in the way they walked and held their heads high. All this had changed since he had first taken command of them, though it seemed the true crucible had been those thirty days when they had decided to rescue him, against proper protocol.

They had rice gruel and jerky for breakfast, washing it down with water warmed over the campfires, as it had been icy cold in the barrels. The grass was pale with frost, the soldiers' breath fogging in the brisk air.

Within an hour, the whole camp was alive and busy preparing for the day's battle.

Noise across the Crowfield brought the sounds of metal, shouts, and the tramp of boots on earth and flattened grass.

Before long, it was time. The newly altered pikes were passed out to the foot soldiers, and Keen and Lord Karlen exchanged nods as they got their men into position. General Terence bellowed out the order to proceed. Horns blew, and the Royal Army charged towards the South encampment.

The haze of battle swept over Keen as the two armies collided mid-field, and soon it was nothing more than breath and heartbeat in his ears, the sounds of steel upon steel, the shouts of enemy and ally alike strangely muted. Blood thawed the frosty ground, slicked and spread by boots and fallen bodies.

Keen couldn't count the number of bodies that fell to his blade, sweat in his face. Every blow he took might have hit true, or glanced off his shirt of mail. He couldn't tell whose blood was upon him, all he could do was strike, defend, strike again, cut down a man and step over the fallen.

All around, the cannons were firing now, from both sides, thunderous and shaking the earth under foot. Spells were flung, and Keen fought furiously to make his way to the closest spell caster. The Falcon's Sixteenth, knowing now how to see through illusions, followed his lead.

But the rebel army had learned from Ballyn Fields. The mages no longer stood together, making them a much smaller target than before. And the Royal Army was severely outnumbered.

After miraculously avoiding a serious head blow, Keen took a hard blow to the side of his torso and staggered sideways– the chainmail stopped the blow, but he knew at least two of his ribs were cracked. Eller, coming out of nowhere, decapitated the offending rebel with his pike, the neck spurting blood before the body fell over, twitching. Keen regained his footing, and fought on.

Blood. The stink of sweat and death filled the nostrils of every soldier panting for breath. Behind the lines of men, a Southern cannon aimed true and took out a larger Northern one. Soil and dust kicked up by feet and explosions clung to sweaty, bloody men.

By the time the sun hung directly over head, only five hundred Northern soldiers were still alive on the Crowfield. There had been four thousand at dawn. Despite losing thousands of men, the Southern Liberation Front was still six thousand strong.

This battle had been won for the South, and the crows the Crowfield had been named after feasted on the flesh of the dead.

* * *

The current of the Zora River got stronger the farther upstream one got. When Link wasn't providing music for the rowers to stroke to, he was put to use offering drinks of water to the sweating Hylian men. That night they anchored at Opala, and slept in the sheltered belly of the boat, listening to the rain gently but relentlessly pattering down on the deck above.

The men who did not fall asleep right away spoke softly to each other over their comrades exhausted snores. That night Link learned that most of the Zora Exiles worked as fishermen for the port cities on the river, or as kelp or river weed famers. There was a flourishing community living in Lake Hylia, but most Exiled Zora preferred to live in the river.

It took three days to reach Berage, which was rather far upstream, and on the inner side of the River. Link bid the rowers farewell, ignoring their warnings that he was headed directly into Conch territory, and with Deste, disappeared into the mist of the Sourcewater.

* * *

As the sun grew low in the sky, trumpets sounded from the north. The remnants of the Royal Army drew away from the Liberation Front, who chased them back until the yellow flag of surrender was raised by a man on a white horse from the Royal Army's side. The man was followed closely by a group of nine men, all wearing grey-blue over their shirts of mail.

There was some confusion on the part of the Liberation Front – many wanted to continue fighting, others knew they had won, and began to cheer and celebrate. At the command of General Havarell of Heartsrest, the Southern fighters surrounded the surrendering party and guided them to the General's tent.

With them came a Gerudo woman in bonds. The knight who had flown the yellow flag carried her easily into the tent and set her at the feet of General Haverell. He was followed by a coarse-faced man with dark hair.

"We heard you captured our Wolf of the North." He said, eying the General with stark eyes. "Thought I'd bring someone of equal value in exchange."

General Haverell scowled.

"That is indeed the Lady General Aru Redeye, and she is of great worth."

"Yes. She orchestrated the siege and sacking of Briarsedge. She turned Crimen to the South's side. Amongst other things." The dark haired man said idly. Rillek Valmur, who was guarding the General's tent along with his ridge-cat Mura, wondered how the man could speak so lightly of an enemy.

"So we have the Wolf of the North. Tell me, what is his name? None of us know such a vital thing of the North's greatest warrior."

"The man you have is Walden Muiren. But I tell you now, I am Captain Keen."

"And he is the so-called Wolf." The knight said, hands on the shoulders of the Lady General.

General Haverell rubbed a tired hand over his mouth.

"I see."

"We've come to deliver the surrender of our side." Keen said, "You've won the battle. The generals won't admit it. But it's true nonetheless."

"Why bother?"

"I'd like there to be no more casualties on the Crowfield."

"What makes you think I'll just let five hundred enemies go to fight another day? Every soldier counts."

Keen tilted his head, gaze sharp.

"Because you will." He said simply, as if he could read the General's nature with those eyes of his. The General took in a deep breath.

"Very well, then. Ridgemaster Valmur!" He said, and Rillek poked his head into the tent.

"Sir?"

"Fetch the captive we had thought was the Wolf."

Rillek saluted him and obeyed. The Wolf's second-in-command was exchanged for Lady General Redeye, and the Northerners prepared to leave.

"Wait." General Havarell said as they moved to go. "When one surrenders, reparations are made, and the defeated side surrenders a gift to acknowledge their defeat."

"I am not authorized to handle such resources, let alone surrender them." The Wolf said quietly. "In fact, I am not even authorized to represent the North, let alone offer terms of surrender. The lives of thirty-five hundred Northern soldiers will have to be enough for you." With that, Keen turned his back on the General, and his men left.

* * *

Keen could feel the eyes of the rebels on his back all the way across the Crowfield. He hoped they wouldn't shoot him while his back was turned. Lord Karlen rode beside him, staring at the gore around them.

"Did you see the way she fought?" Karlen said softly, his horse's hooves squelching in bloody mud.

"The Lady General?" Keen replied, breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell of offal.

"The way her eyes burned, how her blades flashed." The knight's voice was awestruck, wiping the blood dripping from the laceration across his cheek that the Lady General had carved herself. "Her eyes were like that of the Queen Ganhala. So fierce."

"You are aware she is the enemy, do you not?" Keen said with some irony. Karlen harrumphed.

"Yes. I am merely saying she is… unique. There cannot be a woman like her in all of Hyrule."

"And for that, I am grateful." Keen replied. They marched on, back to the tattered war camp of the North.

Keen was aware, that already in the Southern camps, word was spreading, of how the Wolf of the North had briefly been captured – a blonde man by the name of Muiren. Later word would refute that – that it was, in fact, a darker man by another name. But as there had been rumors to that nature before, most thought that the refutation was merely contrariness on the speaker's part.

* * *

Despite crossing the Zora River, there were many fledgling rivers that fed it, and the Sourcewater went on for leagues before stopping at the mountains and, further south, draining much of the Lost Woods. Here, the volcanic rock gave way to limestone, the local topography filled with caves and sinkholes.

Away from the river itself, in the Sourcewater it rained constantly, feeding the ravenous drain of the Zora River and thus watering the entire country.

Link and Deste had, thus far, managed to avoid the Conch Zora, by avoiding the deeper streams and rivers in the drainage basin. He supplemented the time-sealed meals in his pack with crayfish and trout from the streams, as well as watercress and local berries. Purple tubers were in season here as well, and Link dug them up and roasted them after identifying the plants by their distinct yellow flowers. The water was cold and fresh, if containing a rather sharp mineral taste.

He was following a ridge of rock along a valley when he heard something odd.

Drums. But not hide drums like he was used to hearing. No, these were clearly entirely wooden ones.

Against his own better thinking, he followed the sounds, stepping carefully. Closer, he could hear harsh Zora voices chanting, the drums beating a hard counterpoint.

_May the flesh of the pure revive you,_ the voices cried, _May Jarzun rise again, to tear at the flesh of those who would stand against us! May the blood of the unbelievers revive your thirst for sinner's flesh, and bring us victory once more! Glory, glory to the Great Jarzun!_

Link peered into the clearing that had been made at the lip of a deep cenote. Glow stones lit the clearing, revealing a stained altar of stone, dry Zora standing tall and chanting, and the massive outline of a shark-like creature dwelling in the water-filled sinkhole.

A cheer went up as a screaming Zora-girl was bundled up to the altar, shrieking for a rescuer. But as Link waited for a response, sheltered from Conch eyes by thick brush, no one moved to help her. The rope-bound girl, who could only be about eight or nine judging by her size, was laid on the altar. A stone knife was revealed, and as the Zora began to bless it, Link notched an arrow to his bow.

He whistled a quick melody to enspell it, and fired. The Zora with the knife was struck in the chest by the released arrow, and then burst into flames as the spell was activated. Link fired off a volley of several more fiery arrows, before dashing into the chaos he had caused, sword drawn.

A Zora man with a staff tried to strike him, but the Hylian boy was faster on land, and easily danced away from the whirling staff. He darted forward, and lopped an arm off at the elbow. Another tried to engage him, but his steel sword was sharp, and his shorter reach was something he was used to. Breathing hard, Link made his way to the altar at the edge of the cenote, scooped the girl-child who was to be the sacrifice up and over his shoulder, and dashed for the high rocky ground from whence he had come.

The Conch warriors followed at a slower pace, their shrill voices promising retribution. Link sheathed his sword and ran, breath coming easily once he hit his stride. The Zora girl seemed to know she was better off with this boy than on the altar, and wrapped an arm and a leg around him to better anchor herself.

The drums, left behind the two fleeing, started up again. Fierce. And urgent.

The hunt was on.

* * *

1. My excuses - I transferred to a new school, and summer school happened. A solid 'A' in Social Psychology FTW. I had a very painful breakup with my boyfriend. Also, a six-day visit to Wiscosin to visit my family most locations of which are 12-15 hours away from Cleveland. Captain America came out and blew my brains out with its splendor. And did I mention writer's block?

Chapter 49 was a doozie - 8,000+ words. Yeah.

* * *

As ever, reviews are wonderful. I take opinions into account in regards to editing. Since I plan to publish this (all names changed as well as obvious details), you are all, in a way, my betas and test-group. So don't be afraid to sock it to me.


	50. Riptide

It has been SO LONG. My computer died and took this and three more chapters of this story. For a while I couldn't go on after losing over 20,000 words of work. And then fall happened and hello seasonal depression. It's been hard, but hey, I looked at my stuff recently, and I haven't updated in two months. So have this for now - I'm breaking my usual update protocol. Please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Nine: Riptide**

Jon, who was still coming to terms with his new name, and being his own person rather than the perfect, obedient soldier he'd been raised to be, heaved the door to the cellar open. He'd burnt the potion he'd supposed to have finished by the time Yelen returned from her rounds. Could water, ground petal bits, chives and binding agent even burn that easily? Somehow he had managed it whilst daydreaming.

Yelen was due to be back any moment now. Maybe he could get a new batch started before she arrived. He'd need the dried flowers and more binding agent from the cellar.

Jon was so busy scolding himself for errant dreams of going to market and, absently-mindedly thinking a bit about sex, that he forgot the fourth step on the cellar stairs had broken the other day and required replacing.

He stumbled, lost his grip on the rail, and tumbled ankles over head down the stairs, momentum carrying him forward until his head met the floor with a sickening crunch. A miasma of pain swamped Jon, black burning bright across his brain and shuddering through his veins, his fingertips and toes twitching as he failed to catch his breath, pain, pain, pain. Pain so overwhelming he ceased to feel anything else. Then darkness and stillness for a long time, the pain somehow gone now.

Then suddenly everything restarted, his skull getting very itchy as the bone fragments pulled away from where they'd imbedded in his brain, and knit back together. The torn edges of his scalp melted closed, blood clotting in his hair. The cellar floor was cold and sticky with blood under his stunned cheek.

Jon sucked in a breath, coughed hard as he tried to fill lungs that had gone too long without air and choked on the dust sucked in from desperate gasps. Finally, he brought shaky hands up to the floor and peeled himself off the bloody cellar stone. Frantically, he checked his head where he'd hit it.

Nothing! Not even a lump or a split in the skin. The blood that came away on his fingers was cold and clotted, not fresh.

"How on this wide world did you burn flu tonic?" Yelen called from upstairs. "Jon? Where are you, my lad?"

"I'm-" he had to raise his voice to stop it from cracking "I'm downstairs, Yelen. Hit my head on the floor."

"What?" There was some commotion on the ground floor, and Jon took the moment to sit down on the floor, scooting away from the sticky puddle of blood and bits of brain fluid.

Yelen kept a good hold on the railing as she descended into the light stone lit cellar, carefully avoiding the broken fourth step.

"Jon! You've a head wound, no doubt, but you ought to be fine, from the sound of you."

But the scolding look on her face fell away and paled as she saw how much blood was on the floor.

"I'm fine now, Yelen."

"Well!" She snapped, hazel eyes ablaze, "In all my years that is nothing more than the greatest lie I've heard a patient say!"

"When I fell, I heard my skull break. Temporal or parietal region, I think. On the right side."

Yelen caught his jaw with firm fingers, turning his head so she could see for herself. He didn't wince as she gently probed the area.

"There's nothing." She said, wrinkled brow furrowed in confusion, eyes piercing.

"And there's cerebrospinal fluid on the floor, too. It has a rather distinct smell." He closed his mouth with surprise before any more medical nonsense could spill out. What fluid and he'd certainly never smelt that before. But a quick mental check showed the Monster sulking in his lair, tucked away. Odd. The Dreamer had never made such an outburst before. He made a mental note to bother the Dreamer later, when the day was done. Sometimes the Dreamer spoke back.

"Cerebro fluid?" Yelen queried.

"Brain fluid, mum." He replied, and she nodded.

"There's far too much blood for there to be nothing wrong, and yet you sit there, untouched. There's not even the goose egg you got yourself this morning from sleeping in the loft and hitting your head on the roof beam. But your hands have still got the splinters from the rail, and a steam burn on your wrist from the potion, by my guess."

"My timesense worked before it, and now it works as well. But not during. My best guess is that I was dead, Yelen. For about five minutes, give or take."

She scowled. "I don't see how that can be possible."

"Yeah, well, I don't either."

"There's something different about you, Jon Kilresey," His mistress said to him. "But I can't tell whether or not that's good, or bad."

"You've said that before." Jon mutters.

"I have indeed. We'll figure this out together." She stands, and he stands to help her up the stairs. "If you say you were truly dead, I believe you. You're a sharp lad, my boy. You've got good instincts, and a good mind, if prone to daydreams. Once you've learned to focus, by the Goddesses, I'll make a chemist of you yet."

"I'll try harder, Yelen." Jon promised, and went back downstairs with a bucket and a rag to clean the floor. When his task was done, he found her in her study, examining a book on the healing rates of the various races of Hyrule.

"What happened to you, Jon?" Yelen asked softly, looking unusually old in the fair afternoon light. "You said you were a refugee. But you don't have the manners of a Southern lad. I'm very nearly an old woman, but not so old I don't hear the noises you make in your sleep. What is it that you dream of?"

"I don't dream, Yelen. I only remember." Jon looked away, so she wouldn't see what was in his red-hued eyes. The way he couldn't be his own person, torn as he was between the Monster and the Dreamer. "But they're not my memories. They're someone else's."

* * *

"Are you ready, my Lady?" Ganondorf inquired, turning to where Din was seated in his quarters at the Green Wing of Hyrule Castle. Bright summer sunshine poured in through diamond paned windows.

"I am." Din said with a smile. "You know, it does not make sense for you to refer to me so deferentially when to others you are clearly my superior."

Ganondorf thought this over.

"You pose an excellent point. But calling you by your true name would never do. The Hylians must never know your true identity, so it would be best to choose an ordinary name for the time being."

The Goddess, his new lover, nodded.

"I believe the name Kolyaru will do."

"From the tale of Kolyaru and Her Husband?"

"The very one."

"I see." The Gerudo King rubbed a hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "I won't be of much use so far North anymore. Soon I'll require suspiciously high amounts of leylines messaging, and Ferrick Rauros, with his estate near Crimen, has a far better alibi than I. He's ready to take over our Northern operations."

"The United League of Southern Lords is due to meet in Kelyeso in one month's time. I can get you to Crimen in two days through the leylines, but you will not be able to return here. The travel is too easily detectible, and since you are technically my pawn in the Cataclysm game, I cannot remove you from the light plane of Hyrule. And we don't want to draw attention to Kelyeso. You will have to travel from Crimen to Kelyeso on your own – the Gorons will need me for the next week."

"Do they indeed." He muttered, and Din smiled slightly.

"Your Link has been very busy, my love."

"Has he."

"Mmm." She replied with a neutral hum. Ganondorf nodded slowly.

"Very well. I will leave tomorrow. Have a message sent over the leylines from the Fortress, as if there is a matter of great importance that will occur. A dispute between the heads of the Guilds or some such."

Din cocked her head, thinking, then returned her gaze back to the desert king.

"It is done."

"Thank you, my dear." Ganondorf said, standing and crossing to the bookshelf, where he opened a large atlas of the country. As he passed where Din sat, he let a broad hand rest on her bare shoulder, lingering. She breathed in deeply, and tilted her head against his forearm, content.

* * *

Yelen stared at the cotton bag Jon had dumped onto the workbench. It squirmed slightly.

"What, exactly is that, my boy?" She queried, eying it suspiciously.

Jon grinned.

"A grey mamba. Big bastard bit me on my way back in from town." He said, and began digging through the cupboard in the hall.

"Mambas are deadly, lad."

"S'right, too. That was why I'm late by an hour or so. Do you think Master Bensol will notice I died in his wheat field? I did my best not to make any noise." He stood on his tiptoes to reach a large, covered wicker basket, and pulled it down from the highest shelf. "Kept a good grip on this bugger, though. Mamba venom is supposed to be incredibly useful in all sorts of potions, if I recall correctly. Now we'll have a regular supply of it."

"When I promised to help you discover what limits your inability to remain dead reached, I didn't know I was creating a monster." Yelen said in an attempt at humor.

"What?" Jon asked in alarm, "Surely you don't think-"

"It was a turn of phrase, Jon. Your attitude towards your own temporary wellbeing is rather alarming, but you're no abomination. Did you deliberately seek out the snake?"

"Course not," He said, picking up the cotton bag and dumping the large snake into the basket before quickly securing the lid shut. It hissed in anger, and tried to get out. Jon sliced open his finger with the eating knife at his belt, then smeared the edge of the lid with his own blood, letting his magic force the basket fibers to weave together so the lid couldn't open at all.

Yelen sighed.

"You ought to get a charm against snakes. Everyone else uses one."

"That's what Miss Tedal said."

"Hm? Who is this Tedal girl?"

"Elys Tedal. She sells vegetables and bread just a few stalls over on market day. She's staying with her aunt – Madam Finkler - until the rebellion's stifled. Her parents are still living in Sideland."

"Ah, so that sort of girl." Yelen said, her hazel eyes beginning to sparkle with amusement.

Jon said nothing. It was still too soon after… well, after. It would be some time before he could try to live normally, until he could come fully to terms with his apparent immortality. He set the snake basket up on a shelf and dutifully began to grind hardened salt wrack sap chunks and heal-ease roots in a mortar, dully turning the pestle gently and adding a little water as he went, turning the ingredients into a thin paste. Salt wrack was the major source of salt for Hyrule, aside from halite mines. The distinctive silvery flowers grew from a hardy bush that produced a salty sap when tapped. The sap was gathered, hardened in the sun, and then boiled to separate the salt from the sap, which was rather bitter to the taste on its own.

"You won't have time for girls in a few days, my lad, so enjoy them while you can." Yelen advised, her hands busy mincing up flar tubers with a sharp knife.

"What?" Jon queried in surprise, and Yelen chuckled.

"We're to get an influx of wounded fighters from the Front in a month. Every town with a healer is getting a dozen or so men with injuries. Once they're nursed back to heath, our chosen men will work on Wickment's rice fields. It's very well organized."

"I'll not heal rebels." Jon growled, pulverizing the sap chunks and roots a little too thoroughly.

"Nonsense." Yelen said, "You'll do exactly what I say. You're _my_ apprentice."

"I obey the king." Jon said.

"There's no king in the South. Not anymore. It is not a healer's place to judge those who need their skills. We must heal lord, farmer, and criminal alike, regardless."

Jon jerked away from his work, temper rising.

"Do you know what the rebels have done?" He said sharply, blood pounding in his ears. "War is an atrocity that shouldn't exist. How many thousands of men, rebel and soldier alike, have died because of Imally's greed? How many houses and towns have been burned? How many refugees have lost their homes?"

"I am an old woman, lad, and despite being a healer, I believe there are some things worth dying for."

"What have you lost, Yelen? The rebels took _everything_ from me. My lover is dead because of them. The thing in me, that makes me the way I am, I can't control it anymore, like I used to. How much longer will it be, I wonder, when it gets out to kill again? And now I can't even die properly! Maybe I'll never see him again." He paused and swallowed roughly. "I was a soldier from the North, Yelen. I won't kill of my own will again, but neither will I stop a traitorous dog from bleeding out."

Yelen stared back at her apprentice, anger kindled in her eyes.

"When one finishes their apprenticeship, before they are medaled as a true healer, they take an oath to heal all. Regardless of faith, creed, or loyalty. Regardless of what _side_ they're on. I want you to swear that to me now, Jon, or whatever your name is, soldier of the North. Because if you're not willing to turn a blind eye to your patients' pasts, lad, then perhaps I was wrong to take you on."

Jon took in a shaky breath between his teeth.

"Jon?" Yelen prompted, and Jon lifted a hand to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.

"I'll…" He headed for the door to the herb garden, abandoning the mortar and pestle. "I'll be in the garden. Weeding. Yelen." And he left the workroom.

"Jon?" Yelen said sharply, concerned, "Jon!" No response. "For heaven's sake!"

* * *

Blood pumped fiercely through Link's veins as he bolted for Deste, trying his best to keep a good grip on the slippery hide of the Zora girl slung over his shoulder.

"Can you ride horses?" He gasped, "You'd better be able." He boosted her onto the saddle and swung up behind her. Link put out a hand to keep the girl from sliding off. She grabbed onto his arm tightly, the other hand grasping the front of the saddle. Link slid his occupied arm around the girl's waist, and found the reins with his good hand. A firm nudge with his heels, and a sharp command got Deste cantering back in the direction from whence the horse and his master had come.

Following slowly, but relentlessly, were the Conch Zora, their angry voices carrying through the woods as Link and Deste rapidly outpaced them. The two humanoids were silent for hours, aside from a brief whisper of thanks from the girl, and a quick 'don't mention it' from Link in reply. Rain continued to fall steadily. Most of the time they were too busy listening intently for the shrill voices and clumsy footfalls of the Conch warriors. They stuck to the high ground, avoiding the deeper reaches of the river. Three times it was necessary to cross deep water, and the girl helped lead Deste across, her awkwardly shaped legs fusing together to form a single tail, complete with filmy fins. She could only separate her legs after an hour of being dry. Link was brimming with curiosity about why that was, but it would have to wait.

Finally, when Deste began to snort in complaint, when Link's thighs and arms were stiff and achy, and the Zora girl was almost limp with exhaustion, they stopped for the night under a massive tree with low hanging branches. Link pulled out a measure of corn and cracked barley out of the feed bags in his pack for Deste to eat, and then found a (mostly) dry spot to unfold his little tent, with its barrier spells that Ganondorf had given it.

Food seemed more important than conversation, so the elf boy and the Zora girl scarfed down salted fish and guzzled water from the canteen until they had their fill. Link laid out his bedroll in the tent, and filled his canteen with purified water from a shallow creek nearby.

When he got back, the girl was rubbing the rope burns on her wrists – the Conch Zora hadn't bothered to tie her ankles, as their legs weren't that strong to begin with.

"That should probably be looked at." He said gently. "I think we're safe for the night, at least." When she didn't respond, he continued. "I'm Link Forrester. Message boy, and er, rescuer."

"My name is Ruto." She said softly in a high-pitched, bubbly voice.

"Do you mind telling me why those Conch were going to sacrifice you?"

She flinched, then said sharply, "Do I have to?"

"Not if you don't want to, no. I'm just curious."

"I'm Pearl Zora. I'm being trained to be the High Priestess someday."

"So they thought you were um, holy enough to-"

"-To make that shark abomination healthy again." She said stiffly.

"Do your parents know you're missing?"

"What are 'parents'?" Ruto asked in confusion.

"Um. The two people who create a child together, so the child can be born."

"Born?"

"You really don't know?"

"Clearly."

"When a male and a female join together, the male plants a seed in the female's womb, and a baby grows there."

"Oh, that." Ruto said scornfully, as if Link were somehow mentally deficient. "_Breeding_. The Chosen female puts her empty eggs in the Breeding Pool, and then the Chosen male clouds the water with his spermatozoa. A good spawning produces twelve or twenty eggs. Don't tell me you landwalkers let_ anybody_ reproduce if they want to."

"It's their right to have children. Aren't you too young to know such things?"

Ruto scowled. "Careless breeding weakens the purity of the race. And I'm perfectly old enough – I'm seven, after all."

Link eyed her flat chest and skinny hips. Then again, she was a fish. Maybe fish babies didn't require milk. And if they laid eggs, then she didn't need wide hips. "What's the age Zoras are fully mature?"

"Now you're catching on, landwalker. We reach maturity at ten years."

"What happens to the Zora who don't get chosen for breeding? And how do those legs turn into a tail?"

"Why," She said pointedly, "Should I tell you? You may have saved my life, but a good Pearl never opens their shell for an outsider."

"You don't have to." Link replied easily, "I'll just ask an Exile Zora. Peg Tooth was very talkative."

"Exiles are barbarians, worshipping a false landwalker deity. They don't even take the names of their forebears. As third-hatched of my spawning pool, I can rightfully take the Ru from Priestess Ruha and the To from High Prince Tola." She took a deep breath, then let it out, the purple flush of her silvery face dissipating a little. "You want to know? Well, fine. You saved me."

"Only if you want to." Link insisted, thinking he might get a willing blood offering if he played the situation right. He'd ask only after she was returned to her people, of course. "I'll settle for getting you back to where you belong."

"It's only fair. Those who are not chosen for breeding go to the acid pools. They fling their eggs and spermatozoa into the boiling acid, so there can be no mistake children. And our legs hook together." She bent her leg so he could see the inner thigh, which was pocked with thin slits running from her featureless groin to her ankles. When she flexed her inner thigh and calf muscles, bone hooks extruded, gleaming with gluey mucus. They looked viciously sharp. "The secretions lubricate the hooks so they can slide into place properly. When we go underwater, the secretion hardens into a powerful adhesive."

"Huh." Was Link's response, and then he yawned deeply. "That's fascinating."

Ruto looked unconvinced, but then she too cracked into a yawn, revealing sharp peg teeth in the front, which were meant for eating fish, and ridged molars in the back, shaped to grind plant matter efficiently.

"We should get to sleep." Link said, and rubbed at his eyes. "I'd say we're at least three days away from the Glacier Lake, if we keep the same pace."

Ruto stared at him with wide black eyes. "How can you know that? It's location is secret!"

"When I spent my time with the Gorons, I saw the _line _maps they used. One detailed all the volcanic areas of Hyrule. There's only one major grouping of geysers in the Sourcewater that's large enough to be named 'the Geyserland.' Since the Glacier Lake is past the Geyserland, it only goes to figure that we're not too far away."

"You are no messenger boy, Link Forrester." Ruto said, eyes dark with suspicion.

Link shrugged easily. "I've a message to spread. It doesn't have to mean I'm a simpleton." At her inquiring glance, he added, "I'm spreading the name of the next successor to the Hylian throne."

"Who?"

He told her, to her disbelief.

"Such a thing will not pass. Tradition will not hold with it. You are pursuing a doomed cause."

Link yawned again. "We can talk about this later. I'm exhausted, as are you. I can see how you're drooping."

"Very well." Ruto acquiesced frostily, and they both went into the warded tent. She curled up in Link's bedroll, and was asleep as soon as she put her head down. Link wrapped himself in his blanket, and settled on the rocky ground with a tired grunt. Soon, he too was fast asleep.

* * *

Ferrick sneezed sharply at the dust that came off the book he'd pulled off a high shelf in the Old Wing Library. Ruefully, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and placed the book (Bariman's Chronicles of the Temple of High Rule) on a carrel desk stacked high with thick, aged books. Sooner or later, he would find what he needed. It could take hours. It could take weeks. He could be patient until then. That particular personal quality had brought him farther than he'd ever expected.

The hushed environment allowed the gangly man to hear Zelda's slippered footsteps on the polished marble floor of the library. Her stride was unmistakable – a combination of the confident, almost masculine tap of slippers, and the soft shush of fine silk skirts.

For once she did not notice him, and passed Ferrick three bookshelves down. She too seemed to be searching for something.

Ferrick was just perusing Bariman's accounts of the early construction of High Rule City, when Zelda approached.

"You wouldn't happen to have Archellis' reflections on the Goddesses, would you, Lord Ferrick? It's not on the shelf, and none of the archivists have it either."

"I do indeed, Princess." Ferrick replied, pulling the book out of the middle of the stack. "Go ahead, it's yours." She delicately took the narrow book from him, tucking it under her arm. "May I also suggest this text as well? I think you will find it useful, my Lady."

Zelda gave the book he offered a considering look before she took it as well.

"_The Ideal Sheikah Warrior?_" She wondered aloud, and the elven man nodded.

"You might be surprised with what you learn." He said earnestly, causing her to smile.

"Then I will give it a go." She toyed with the edge of her veil, which was a fine pale yellow, the edges weighted down with gold thread lace. "My condolences on the loss of your estate to the South, Lord Ferrick. How are you handling it?"

"It was a fine estate." Ferrick replied, "I'll miss it. But I never counted on having my own land as a boy. I think I'll get by."

Zelda sighed mentally. She was going nowhere in this conversation. "That's good, at least. You have my sympathy."

"Thank you, Princess."

She nodded, and left Ferrick to his books.

* * *

"Keep breathing… C'mon, you bugger, keep breathing…" Jon muttered, upping the intensity of the spell that was allowing fresh, clean air to cycle in and out of his patient's lungs.

"Patience, lad. I'm almost done with the fourth left rib." Yelen said, wrinkled brow furrowing as she used her magic to nudge the fractured rib pieces back together. "There. Seal it." With a frown, Jon obeyed, using a little probe of magic to knit the pieces back together using material from the bone itself. It weakened the bone overall, but the fourth rib was near the heart and lungs. It wasn't wise to just let the bone heal on its own, particularly since this man would be heading back to work as soon as he could. When the patient – a freedom fighter from Sideland – was recuperating, Yelen would feed him calcium cakes made from Crown Province chalk. That was a problem – they would run out of pure, high quality chalk soon, and would eventually have to use crushed eggshells and sea shells instead. The spell for resealing bones made Jon's joints ache like the coming of old age. Yelen couldn't handle it on a frequent basis, so it was Jon's responsibility to cast it.

"Done." He said, and she nodded.

"Moving on to the fifth." There was a long pause, her hazel eyes squinting as if she could see the bone in her mind's eye. She couldn't. Using magic to suss out the location of a patient's bones was more like an odd combination of touch and taste, instead of sight. "There. Seal it." He did with his left hand, his right hand still outstretched over the patient's throat, maintaining the respiratory maintenance spell. When the last bone was sealed, the maintenance spells no longer needed, and the sleep-numb stasis undone, Jon and Yelen stood, letting one of the many impromptu nurses take over.

Yelen had enlisted the help of a half dozen women from town to care for the twenty or so men who had steadily trickled into Wickment. Most were older women, but there were a few girls responsible enough to watch over wounded men.

The month leading up to the arrival of the Southern Liberation Front's injured men had been a rather busy one. Yelen had decided to postpone anatomy lessons in favor of more practical things – actual spells. Jon now knew how to put a patient into sleep-numb stasis before surgery, how to keep a patient breathing, how to fuse bones together, how to clot blood, and best of all, a regeneration spell meant for tissue regrowth. He was far too good at that particular spell, all things considered – he'd only learned it two weeks ago, and already he was approaching Yelen's skill with it. The spell made sense to him in a way that he could taste/touch, that made the Dreamer quiet and attentive.

In this, the thirteenth and hottest month of the year, it was all the nurses could do to keep the flies out of open wounds, despite burning lemongrass candles at all hours at the edges of the makeshift sick ward, which were set on the sweeping grassy hill that overlooked the northwestern finger of Lake Hylia. Plain canvas tents kept the worst of the sun and rain out; their sides rolled up high so the lakeside breezes could freshen the air and blow the candle smoke away.

At last, the solider with the fractured ribs, broken fingers, burns and a nasty concussion was resting peacefully. The surgery had taken several hours, mostly spent fine-tuning the spells being cast. Now Elys, who had become one of the volunteer nurses, offered Jon a damp cloth to wipe the sweat off his brow and hands. After he returned the cloth, she handed him a cup of water flavored with crushed mint. The water was lukewarm, but it did the job it was meant to - to wash away the cottony taste that sealing bones left in his mouth.

"Thank you, Miss Tedal." He said to Elys.

"You're welcome, Master Kilresey. Jon. It's quite a hot day, isn't it?" She swiped absently at a strand of chestnut hair that had fallen out of her white nurse's cap. Elys was charming, more or less, with rounded cheeks and dimples, her eyes the kind of loam brown that was common this far south.

"Yes, it is. Is it always this hot this time of year?" He wondered, watching the hot air ripple over the pure white sand of the lakeshore beach.

"Yes. It's actually milder this year, I think. The thunderstorms haven't been as severe. Speaking of hot, the burned man needs care."

"You mean private Alf Weatherworthy? Yes, he's overdue for some fresh salve and a poultice change."

Elys nodded in flustered agreement, her cheeks going pink. "Yes. Right. I'll just get those, shall I?"

"If you would be so kind." Jon said dryly, and she made an odd squeaky noise in the back of her throat. He watched her dash to the medicine stand as he unwound a spool of linen bandaging, making sure to cut it to the right length with a pair of sharp shears. Things were coming easier to him now, as if he'd gotten over some kind of mental obstacle in regards towards his studies as a healer. Sometimes instinct would prompt him to do some task Yelen hadn't taught him yet, but she seemed pleased by it, so he wasn't worrying overmuch.

The men coming in wounded from the front were not the kind of soldiers he was used to – young, focused, disciplined boys, hair shorn short and clothes pressed crisp. These men were, for lack of a better world, freedom fighters. There was no particular uniform besides wearing the color green. They were all ages, all professions. Many of them had family still eking out a living in the back of Imally and Lakeland Province, who were struggling to get by without their men. They'd fought on little pay. All for the promise of what they believed was a better, freer life.

Some promise! Would there be a new king, if the South won? And who? Would it be worth it?

Hadell Longaxman, who was originally a carpenter, had a lung that had collapsed. He was surviving on the functioning one, but barely. The procedure to fix the lung might last twenty-eight hours, just four hours shy of a whole day and night. It had had to wait until the other men with more fatal or easily solved wounds could be attended to.

Sean Row lost his left arm up to his elbow, and nearly bled out. The medic who had attended him had applied a tourniquet by means of a tightly buckled belt above his elbow. No one had thought to check on him much, too busy dodging enemy arrows and spells, too busy getting South as fast as possible. Sean hadn't even seen the spell that had taken his hand until he noticed the blood. Gangrene had set in, and his ill-tended wound had festered. The blood poisoning was easily dealt with – but the wrist had begun to rot, so it had had to come off. Sean was trying to convince Yelen to give him a hook, when she was inclined to give him a false hand. Fortunately, Sean was both right-handed and proficient at clerkwork.

Gerard Niflin had lost part of his ear, and had a leg that had shattered from toe to thigh when a calvary-man's horse had fallen on it. He'd crawled through the carnage of Ballyn Fields to the South encampment to find the only living medic overwhelmed by dying men. They'd handed him a pain ball meant for sprains and contusions and told Gerard to make it last the near-month's journey to Wickment. By then some of the bones had healed crooked, and Yelen had Jon rebreak the bones so they would heal straight. Gerard had stopped his training as an advocate at Crimen's university to fight in the war.

There was Malcum Treeline, homesteader with three children, who would bear thick scars across his abdomen from the sword wounds he'd taken for the rest of his life.

Jervail Willowby, logger and widower, broken collarbone, nasty concussion, dislocated shoulder.

Amuel Barkbourn, apprentice blacksmith, wrenched back, bloodloss, chainmail imbedded into his shoulders and back.

These men should have been his enemies. Dark should have taken a knife to their throats that very first night they were rolled in. Should have been a proper, loyal soldier to the North and to the King. Instead, he was Jon. And Jon had cleaned, and healed, and put these men back together as best he could. He knew their names. He knew their lives, told gladly in thanks, or confessed in a fever dream as Jon and Yelen fought to get their patient stabilized.

The guilt was overwhelming. Here these men were, invalids and now comprising mostly of cripples and sufferers of battle-shock, yet they knew themselves as Jon did not, had a cause they were willing to die for, while he drifted through life unanchored by any meaningful loyalties.

Elys had fetched the salve and was busy slathering it on Alf Weatherworthy's chest when the burnt man woke suddenly. Eyes wild and unseeing, he threw himself at Elys, knocking her onto her back on the ground between the cots. She tried to cry for help, but the freedom fighter's hands were already around her long, lovely neck, choking the air out of her.

Nearby, Amuel Barkbourn of the wrenched back watched helpless, unable to sit up on his own power. Sean Row leapt up, skirting the cots and attempting to shove Elys's assailant off of her. Alf only gripped tighter. Elys's lips were turning blue, eyes wide and fearful.

Dark/Jon touched the back of the man's head.

"Sleep." He said, invoking _sleep-numb_. Alf Weatherworthy's body slumped obediently, out cold. Together, Dark and Sean heaved the burnt fighter onto his cot, using rope to strap Alf down until he was in better state of mind. They had to get a little creative with the rope, as there were extensive burns covering much of his left shoulder and chest, so the apprentice healer and crippled freedom fighter strung a rope under the man's back that fastened down his lower arms, as well as laying a strap across his gut, hips, thighs, and feet.

When that was done, Dark guided Elys to one of the nurses' chairs and smoothed magically chilled bruise balm onto the lurid fingerprints on her neck, blooming slowly from raw red to ugly blue-purple.

"Do… Do you-" She started, a distinct rasp to her voice.

"Shush." Dark said, tilting her head so he could run the diagnosis spell over her throat. "Only a little swelling. Does it hurt to breathe?" She nodded gently.

"Just a bit." She croaked.

_Should take the day off,_ commented the Dreamer. _She's going to feel that once the adrenaline wears off. Shame there's nothing more effective than willowbark. Magic is too costly. I can't believe these people haven't come up with something similar to aspirin yet. Willowbark can cause problems with the lining of the stomach. She is a nice girl, but fragile as a bird..._

_Put a sock in it._ The Monster growled. _I've had worse and lived, outworlder. She's not going to perish, so cease your fussing._

"I think you should take the day off. That was enough excitement for one day." He recommended, ignoring the animosity between the two tenants in his head.

Elys's mouth firmed, eyes going steely and willful.

"I'll be fine, Jon." She said stubbornly, "I knew the risks when I started. Anyway, I've got a duty to my country. There's a war on, you know!"

Jon. Yes, Jon Kilresey. That was him. Jon nodded.

"I guess." He recapitulated, letting her go. "Just take it easy."

"I will." Elys said smilingly, batting her eyes at him before standing. She smoothed her nurses' apron with both hands, then returned to her duties.

_Duty to one's country. There's a war on, after all._ Jon mused. He could admire that.

* * *

Two days after their escape from the Conch Zora, Link and Ruto were halfway through breakfast when they heard the distinct crashing sound of the Conch warriors approaching through the dense stand of trees a hundred feet away.

The two youths, elf and Zora, bolted down their meal – fish for Ruto and waybread for Link – and grabbed their packs. The tent was still set up, firmly pegged into the ground. They would have to leave it behind. The Conch had just left the shelter of the trees by the time Link and Ruto were safely on Deste's back. Link dug his heels in, and they were off, outrunning the warloving Zora yet again.

The tinny taste of adrenaline sat heavily on the back of Link's tongue, while Ruto sat easily in the saddle before him, moving with the rocking of Deste's canter. What looked like a bank of fog loomed up ahead. But no. _It isn't fog_, Link thought as the lazy wind shifted towards him, bringing warmth and the smell of sulphur. _It's the geysers._

There was a rumble that shook the ground slightly, followed by a tremendous roar of water flying through the air and splattering down onto rock. With the humid air around him, Link had a sudden memory of the Great Cascade Waterfall back in the Gerudo Valley.

Deste was growing agitated under Link, ears laid back. Then the gelding stopped, and refused to go any further. Link cursed, heeling drumming against the horse's sides to no avail. He took a quick look back – the Conch warriors had them surrounded, the two children's backs to the field of geysers. As a second geyser went off, Deste squealed, bucking. The two riders scrambled off, Link grabbing the saddlebags and pack as the horse bolted directly for a gap in the line of warriors. One of them threw a bone-barb spear at the gelding, but Deste easily dodged it, barreling into the warrior and knocking him off his shaky feet. Then the dappled gelding was gone. Free.

"What do we do now?" Ruto asked, quietly hysterical. Link stared at the fence of warriors, all wielding staffs, spears, or knives. There were about seventy Zora between them and freedom and the edged weapons were made of bone or stone, stained with dried blood.

If it were Link on his own, he knew he could break through the line and get out. But not with Ruto.

"What do we do?" He replied grimly, hefting his gear, "We're going through the Geyserland. You did say it was only a day's journey to your people beyond it, didn't you?"

"Yes." Her black eyes were wild, "But we can't – we're not really – it's not _safe_!" She finally protested, waving a hand for emphasis.

"There's no other way. They won't follow us through there. Would they?"

"Of course not! They may be barbarians and warmongers, but they're not as crazy as you are!"

"Good." Link said with a maniacal grin. He pressed a hand to the embroidered fox on his armored tunic, saying clearly "Vulpes, switch to ram." The blue fabric became red, and Ruto gaped.

"How did you-"

"No time for that." Link said, taking the gambeson off. "Take this." He handed her the pack. "Good. Now put this on." He buttoned up the toggles, and put one of his knit caps on her slippery, hairless head. He put his winter gloves on her hands. He tied his spare pair of boots unto her weak, flat feet, kneeling as he yanked the leather laces tight. Link strapped the saddlebags across his back, then stood and held out a hand to the Zora girl he'd rescued. "Time to go, Ruto. That jacket has magic that should protect you."

She regained her composure, settling the jacket across her narrow shoulders, and then said stiffly, "If we die, it's your fault."

Link's smile grew crooked. He was leaving nothing to protect himself. But he had a hunch, just a little, that he might not need any, now that he was brother-in-arms to the Gorons.

"Fair enough." He replied, taking her hand and pulling her into the thick steam of the Geyserland. The ground rumbled under their feet, the air uncomfortably hot. Through the wafts of steam and mist, Link could make out the bubbling holes that housed the geysers, and thanked his lucky stars that he'd spent the time in Goron City to study the geology of Hyrule through the _lines_ system. He could vaguely recognize what an unspent geyser looked like, and what the warning signs of an incoming geyser spout were.

A war cry from behind reminded him there were dangers from more than just the geysers.

"Run!" He shouted to his companion, keeping a good grasp on her elbow as she did. They took off, Ruto laboriously, Link easily. The ground shook, bubbles frothing out ahead. The two ran faster, and as the water roared up four feet, they skirted the ending edge of the spout. Sixty feet to the left another geyser erupted, shooting twenty-five feet up. Another shot far ahead, then another from behind. The noise was so tremendous Link couldn't hear his pursuers doggedly following them, cursing to their shark god as they burnt their bare feet.

A hand grabbing the strap of his saddlebags got his attention nonetheless. Link whirled around and stomped his bootheel down as hard as he could on the Zora man's delicate, defenseless foot. The warrior howled and let go, and the elvish boy sprinted to Ruto, scooping her up and abandoning all caution in his reckless dash forwards. He didn't see the Conch warriors falling back, as the ground shook so hard it was clear a major eruption was imminent.

It took Ruto squealing in his ear to alert him of the frothing geyser spring not ten feet away, fizzing fitfully. There was no time, as it began to rise slowly, flinging superhot water and steam into the air, stinging onto Link's skin while Ruto was safe from the few drops that hit her. As he ran, Link threw Ruto away from the geyser as far as he could, screaming for her to cover her face and legs until his voice was raw. His words were almost entirely lost in the roar of water that the spring spat out spitefully towards the blue sky. However much that water wanted to reach the heavens, gravity won the battle, and after soaring upwards for a hundred feet, the countless barrels of boiling water crashed down onto Link. His arms and head were bare, his face covered with his equally naked hands. Fortune favored Ruto, who was on the edge of the water's reach and was only splashed.

The geyser eruption lasted an aching three minutes before subsiding. It would not erupt again until the underground reservoir was filled once more. The ground continued to rumble as distant geysers took their turns aiming their waters at the sky. Link stayed huddled on the ground, waiting for death to come. Then he coughed out a lungful of water, retching slightly. No burning, no pain except his shoulder. He patted himself down frantically, searching for burns that were not there. He peeled off his undershirt, squinting at his twinging shoulder. But that was not burnt either. The white scar Darunia had branded there glowed a sullen, pulsing, throbbing red before the light and pain faded away simultaneously. Darunia had mentioned Link would be protected from fire and heat.

_**This mark will pass on the strength of rock and flame. You will touch fire but not be burned. You will touch rock but not be crushed.**_

He'd never thought he would need it, or that it might even be useful in this application.

He pulled his shirt back on, and got to his feet. The saddlebags were stiff and toughened, but they held their shape and the contents were mostly unharmed. For a second he swayed on his feet, blood rushing to his head, and then the sensation passed. Link got his bearings and looked around for Ruto.

She was crumpled on the ground, silvery slippery skin burnt and raw on her forehead, her wrists, her legs, her ankles. Din above, her eyes. She whimpered as he turned her gently, whined "Don't!" as he examined her burns. Her left eye was cooked white instead of pure, depthless black.

Goddesses help him. But they would not come. He was a pawn played in Farore's favor, and Ruto, a Zora, was Nayru's, as were all Zoras. He was on his own. Could he have avoided this? He could do anything. Couldn't he? It was Farore's double-edged gift to him, this confidence. Perhaps… perhaps saving Ruto had never been a feasible option.

No. He could fix this! He could make it right.

But not right now. They had to get out of the Geyserland before they got doused again. He lifted the Zora girl up, onto his shoulder, and picked his way through another half-mile of geyser field. Ruto wailed softly with every movement. Finally, finally the rocky volcanic area gave way to gravel and moss, with the mountains looming not far away.

He set Ruto down carefully on a thick patch of moss. Link then maneuvered his pack off her back, and fished out an amber fruit.

"Ruto, I have something for the pain," He said as he peeled the wax and muslin off the papery rind, "Just eat this, and everything will be all right again." The elvish youth cut the fruit into wedges with his eating knife. He helped her to sit against him, then fed her slice after slice despite her weak protests, until there were no more, even the thin rinds gone. She stared crying silently, grabbing at him with gloved hands as her shoulders shook. As the tears fell, her eye slowly darkened back to featureless black. The weeping, swollen burns crusted over, scabs forming, and then falling off to reveal unharmed silver skin, the flesh underneath a healthy iridescent blue.

"There, see? You're fine now." He soothed, wiping the tears away with his thumb. She snuffled against his hand before pulling away.

"You sound like Sanri." Ruto said in slight disapproval. When Link gave her a questioning look, she elaborated. "Sanri is my caretaker. Every Zora child is assigned to a caretaker who raises us until we're of age."

"Thank you for telling me. Are you all right now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I don't think the Conch warriors are following us anymore." He said, peering back the way they had come.

"That's because they're not insane like you are." She replied with a small sodden smile, showing her peg teeth.

"Thanks. I think. You're feeling better now? We need to get going or the Conch will find a way around the Geyserland. What are the dimensions of that place, anyway?"

"Two miles across, seven long. We went through the middle, I think. The Conch will not find us soon, but you are right that we must go."

"And on foot this time. Can I get my tunic back?"

Ruto nodded, and Link retrieved his armored tunic, his knit cap, and gloves. Using the gloves and a spare pair of socks, he padded the boots Ruto had worn so she could walk in them more comfortably. When he was satisfied with his adjustments, he gave her a sheathed knife to carry, just in case, showing her how to use it, before they headed for the mountains, where the Glacier Lake awaited.

After ten miles of walking, they reached the base of the mountains. Ruto found a fast running stream, and they followed it into the heart of the Southeastern Curled Backbone Range, where the glaciers could be found. When it came time to climb the rock, Ruto hung onto Link's back as tightly as she could, her grip painfully strong.

The Zora girl was growing tired of salted fish, but there was nothing else for her to eat. Zora ate only fish and water plants such as river and lake weed. Link stuck to biscuits cheese, and summer sausage.

Three days into the mountains, they stumbled upon a Zora Pearl guard, who gaped at them from the cave entrance he was guarding.

"High born female Ruto!" He said in surprise, "How did you return, and why have you led this landwalker to our den?"

"This is Link Forrester," Ruto replied graciously, "He saved me from my Conch kidnappers and returned me to our home."

The guard turned to look at the Hylian boy suspiciously.

"It is good indeed that you have returned her to us," He said gravely, "But I am afraid that now you have found us, you will not leave this place alive."

* * *

1. Lemongrass is also known as citronella grass. It grows abundantly in warm temperate and tropical climates. It can be made into tea, soup, and as an herb in pretty much every mainstream except for pork, which is just as well. It also has excellent antifungal and pesticide properties, which makes it very popular in sub-tropical Lake Hylia.


	51. A Life Owed

Merry early Christmas everyone! My first semester at John Carroll was amazing, and my studying paid off - I will continue to be eligible for my scholarship. Next semester includes a Fiction workshop class! I'm so thrilled! Break has been great so far. I love writing this story, and I love all my readers. The response to this story has humbled and inspired me, it really drives home that my efforts are not in vain. Please, enjoy your well-deserved present.

As of now, this story has 215,519 words, 676 reviews, 119,000 hits, 288 favs, and 268 story alerts.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time **  
**

* * *

**Chapter Fifty: A Life Owed**

The rain poured down, relentless, making the ground slick under the feet of the Falcon's Sixteenth. Mid-afternoon, the sun hung six hands high from the eastern horizon.

"Isn't it time to be packing up and leaving camp?" Eller wondered aloud, eying his fellow soldiers. "Where's the Captain?"

The others quickly discovered Captain Keen hadn't been seen since breakfast.

"No, not since breakfast. He went into his tent when it started raining." Rana said, and Lieutenant Muiren settled his helmet further onto his head with a frown.

"I'll see to him, lads. Have a care and take down the tents." He squared his shoulders as he strode to the officer's tent, and ducked inside.

It was worse than he'd thought.

Keen leaned against the tent pole, knees drawn up to his chest. He had his chin on his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around himself, hands clutching his biceps so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes stared sightlessly forward.

"Captain Keen?" Muiren tried, "We need to leave, Captain."

"I can't go out there, Muiren." Keen replied dully.

"Whyever not?"

"Because if I go out in the rain, I'll be back _there_ again. It was their favorite thing to do to me. The drowning. The men shouldn't see me like this. Bad enough that we're going to lose the war. It would be bad for morale."

"They've seen you worse." Walden Muiren assured his friend, his captain. "We need you now. When the war is over, we'll find a way to help you. But we need you. Now."

"The war waits for no one." Keen said with a deranged smile, and leveraged himself off the ground. He stumbled out of the tent. Keen made a harsh noise as cool raindrops hit his face, then crammed his helmet onto his head roughly, leaving a hand on the crown as if the action soothed him.

When he noticed his men staring at him, he reached for his composure, spine straightening.

"Pack up. We're moving for Scena within the hour!" Keen barked, and the men saluted crisply, fists over their hearts. They looked relieved.

Muiren shook his head and started pulling tent pegs up, mentally readying himself for the troop's new mission. After the resounding defeat at the Crowfield, the Falcon's Sixteenth were being punished for unofficially surrendering to the enemy. But their skills in battle, tracking, and ability to survive suicide missions had made Keen – and the troop – too valuable to demote. So they were back where they had realized their full potential – deep behind enemy lines, with an official mission this time.

A double agent in the employ of the South had let slip that three very important figures in the Southern leadership were all traveling from Crimen to Kelyeso. They were traveling with a small entourage to avoid attention. These very important people would pass near Scena, a small fishing town on the shore of the northwestern finger of Lake Hylia.

General Justice had died in Briarsedge. The Falcon's Sixteenth had had their command changed to General Hardies, who'd been dealt a nearly mortal blow at the Crowfield and was still recovering in Plains Province. So now, General Adrewiss had ordered the Wolf and his pack of nine to ambush and kill the VIPs in Scena.

This would make it the eighth suicide mission the Pack been assigned. If they hadn't died yet, they probably wouldn't now.

* * *

The day was hot, stifling humidity pressing against Ganondorf's dark skin, keeping the sweat on his brow from cooling. Thoughtlessly, he ran his magic through his veins, into the capillaries close to the skin. It was not an actual cooling spell, per se. He was merely utilizing the natural cooling properties of Gerudo magic.

He was tired, from a long day's travel, from the distinctly unpleasant after effects of traveling via leyline, and from maintaining the illusion spell meant to disguise his entourage of guards as a caravan of wounded soldiers heading for kinder climes. With him were Duke Benyamin from Drought Country, and Hansellen, the second son of Duke Hansel of Lakeland Province. The three lords were spread out amongst a mounted escort twenty-five men strong.

Ganondorf's trip from Crimen had been long, but safe. Crimen had fallen to the South long ago, its citizens now eager for freedom, its wealth making the end of war that much closer. The conflict that had started the civil war had started in the depths of Imally Province, and the North had focused on that Province of the most unruly and defiant of dukes, Fran the Bastard. While the Hylian King's attention was on Imally, Lake Hylia had quietly done away with the King's watchers, and begun seeding every field left to pasture in anticipation of conflict closer to the Northern border. Lakeland Province had been next. Only Crimen had resisted. Drought Country was won easily – the land too poor to waste soldiers on.  
As for securing the borders of Imally, long overdue, that goal was within sight but not quite within reach.

Ganondorf knew, objectively, that the South would win. It was a matter of resources and manpower, of loyal civilians willing and motivated to sacrifice time, effort, and material goods in order to secure their liberty.

These Northern soldiers had better training, yes. They had the battle mages. The cannons in force. But the common soldiers, the footmen and pikemen, had no cause to inspire them beyond bringing in an income.

Until that damnable Wolf had come onto the stage of war. The Wolf of the North, and his pack of nine. The Wolf was just a man, he would die just as easily as any other. Yet he did not perish, not in Ballyn Fields, not on the Crowfield. Not on the supposed gross of suicide missions it was rumored his pack had carried out. He seemed able to slip into the heart of the South without being noticed, able to inspire armies to fight battles doomed to fail.

It was just as well the South had their own champion, silent in the North. Even now Link was carrying out his mission to bring the Hylian crown to its knees, cunning and amiable as he was. Six blood sacrifices to win the Triforce, and with it, the key to punishing the Hylian King. The Gerudo blood had come from Ganondorf, the Sheikah blood from Aru before she had joined the war in the South. The Hylian blood had come from Ferrick Rauros. It was up to Link to gather the Goron, Zora, and forest child blood.

The road that followed the shore of Lake Hylia grew steep as it climbed a high hill. To the right, the hill cut away to reveal a cliff face that looked over the clear blue waters of the lake. To the left was a small, dark stand of trees meant to serve as a windbreak for the planted fields that littered this part of the lakeshore.

There was some commotion from the vanguard ahead, who had stopped abruptly. The group of twenty guards, all on horseback, compressed as the middle and rear caught up to those in front.

"Is there a problem?" Ganondorf asked Lord Hansellen in front of him. The young man looked nervously at the Gerudo king.

"I don't think so, no. There's a few trees down, blocking the road. Must've fallen during yesterday's thunderstorm."

"I see." The king said, and patiently settled himself in the saddle as he waited for the vanguard to reopen the path through Scena's hils. The mounts of the two Lords and those of the guards shifted uneasily, snorting and flicking their ears.

There was a tremendous, creaking crash from the rear as another tree fell from the dark thicket of woods, blocking the way back.

"What on- ah!" Hansellen began, then gurgled as an arrow took him in the throat, burying itself in the small gap between light mail and his helmet.

Ganondorf met the man's eyes as the nobleman clawed at his neck, blood gushing slippery through armored fingers. His eyes unfocused, filming up, and slid slowly off the saddle onto the ledge close to the cliff edge. The King stared for a moment, then roused, drawing up his magic to shield himself, right hand reaching for his blade. He grimaced – travelling through the leylines hadn't drained his magic, but made it finicky and elusive – he could feel how weak his concentration was.

The sound of the bewildered troop was abruptly cut as a barrage of arrows whistled through the air, slowly picking off men one by one. Arrows meant for Ganondorf ricocheted off his magic shield, several striking men around him.

Enough. Ganondorf traced the arrows, looking for the archer likely hiding in the forest. When he found the source, he exhaled forcefully into his left palm, letting a small flower of fire blossom in the center, growing slowly. He raised his hand, palm up, and with pursed lips he blew the fire construct towards the hidden archer towards the rear of the wooded patch.

Fire rent the earth, shaking the ground nearby. Some of the dirt and rock by the lip of the cliff tumbled down to settle on the scree at the base of the cliff. Trees and branches crashed down, showering the path, guards on horseback, and corpses with leaves and tree nuts. The horses screamed, eyes rolling in fright. The Gerudo king's mount reared, and the man fought to stay in his saddle.

The barrage of arrows continued from the far end of the trees, and Ganondorf heard the guard commander order some of his men to attack the archers there. Ganondorf breathed in deeply and cast the same fire flower spell as before, sending it out to the other end of the thicket. But the spell construct seemed to bounce off an invisible shield, and rebounded instead directly into the charging trio of guards, who died in a screaming blaze along with their horses, the flames so hot all but bone was seared away.

Ganondorf drew a second shield layer around himself, further strengthening his protection. He looked frantically around himself, trying to calm his steed as his horse backed up and scuttled sideways, shaking its mane in agitation. What had once been a formidable troop of twenty-four mounted soldier escorts, now remained only six a-horseback, clustered around the King.

"Duke Benyamin is lost, my lord!" A soldier originally posted in the vanguard yelled, sword drawn.

There was a disturbance from the wasted rear portion of the woods. A man in Northern grey-blue loped down the hill, weaving through the remains of scorched and fallen trees, directly for Ganondorf. At the same time, balls of fire were flung at the remaining guards, herding them into place so the last archer could take a better shot. An ingenious ambush.

The Northern soldier drew his sword as he closed in at a run. The closest guard lashed down with a spear, but the assassin deflected the spear tip and slashed at the side of the guard's saddle girth, then cut the tendons in the horse's rear leg. The guard squawked as he and the saddle slid off the injured horse – an arrow then took him through the eye.

Ganondorf pulled his magic tight – and the assassin slipped through the barrier as if it wasn't even there. Too late the king reached for his weapon, and managed to catch the incoming blade with the metal bracer strapped to his forearm.

He dropped the shields in favor of hurling a flurry of wind-blades at the assassin, who shrugged them off easily, yanking his sword back for another strike, which Ganondorf trapped between his bracers, arms crossed. An arrow caught Ganondorf in the shoulder – he ignored it. The Northern soldier whipped out a long knife stained with purple fluid with his spare hand and sliced the sword-belt from the king's side, blade and sheath falling to the ground where it was kicked away.

Ganondorf released the sword, striking out with his bracers, looking around him frantically. So few guards left…

The attacker's sword cut open the horse's side, it screamed and bucked. As the wounded Gerudo king clung to his steed's back. He was on his own – the guards were too busy fighting for their lives.

Ganondorf looked at his opponent – struck by the grim grin, the crazed blue-gold eyes. Remembered the varied descriptions of the Wolf of the North. How the only thing people could agree on was the wildness in the man's eyes.

The dark-skinned man struck his enemy's head with his bracer. Again. Again. He ripped the helmet off. No point in magic, just brute force. Ganondorf struck again – the assassin narrowed his eyes, grimacing, and buried the poisoned knife into the king's belly, right through the heavily magicked armor, twisted the blade and ripped it out sideways.

Ganondorf shrieked in pain, and got a final blow in to the Wolf's temple, who collapsed like a marionette with his strings cut. As the man fell, the Southern lord got a good kick in. An arrow narrowly missed him – he painstakingly pulled his shields up once more.

"My Lord Ganondorf!" A guard yelled, riding up, caked in blood and dirt, "We must go!" The soldier's eyes widened when he saw the blood from the deep gut wound, the injured steed of the Duke. A second solider helped the king off his horse and onto the first soldier's, who kicked his horse into action and galloped up the hill, vaulting the fallen trees and down the unimpeded, open road. They left the last two soldiers to keep the ambushers busy and prevent a pursuit. Ganondorf knew those guards were as good as dead.

Every bump in the road was agonizing, every lurch and sway brought dark spots to the Gerudo King's eyes. Finally, blessedly, he passed out completely.

* * *

The Gerudo Duke had escaped.

Muiren looked up; quickly slitting the throat of the man he'd been distracting and letting the bleeding body fall to the ground. He ran when he saw how the Captain wavered, and caught his commanding officer under the arms as the man folded up and collapsed.

"Not again." He exclaimed, letting Smek take out the last soldier with a focused blast of fire. The Southern soldier screamed over the roar of flames, then went silent. Muiren ignored this, picking his way through corpses and fallen branches to his fallen, bloodied captain. With all that blood, he couldn't tell whether there was a bruise or a laceration on his right temple. A laceration, bleeding sluggishly under his finger, heartbeat strong when Muiren checked for a pulse. Keen stirred, eyes flickering.

"Captain?" Muiren asked softly. Keen grinned weakly up at him, regaining consciousness briefly.

"Hey." He said.

"It's good to see you're still with us."

"The Gerudo King – where is he? Did we get him?" The Wolf asked, struggling to get up from where Muiren was supporting his head.

"He got away."

Keen cursed, flopping back onto Muiren's lap.

"Two of three isn't bad." He grumbled, "I got him in the gut, with Assassin's joy on the blade."

"What were you thinking? That stuff's just as dangerous to the user as the victim-"

"And entirely magical. It's never done anything to me, not one bit."

"All right." Muiren allowed.

"I doubt he'll last long." Keen rasped, struggling to stand. "Bleed out in thirty minutes. There's no healers of caliber here for leagues that could counter the poison." He put a hand to his head and winced. "I should be fine." He staggered a little. "Put me down. Need… to clear my head." Muiren obeyed, lowering Keen onto his rump in the middle of the dirt road.

Lieutenant Walden Muiren wiped bloody hands on his trousers, ignoring the laceration in his side, and began to assess the casualties.

Nine against twenty-eight.

The Gerudo Lord had taken out the rear base of the Pack – Wask sidled up to Muiren from the trees.

"Rana's dead." The bandy-legged soldier muttered, tears and muck on his face. Wask had been safe in the front base under Muiren's luck. "Gonar, Benlar, Hest. All gone." He wiped at his eyes. "Eller's burnt badly, but he's hanging on to life."

Keen-eyed Rana. Rambunctious, cheerful Hest. Flat-voiced Benlar. Pious Gonar clutched his prayer beads even in death.

"Smek." Muiren said as the sweet-faced man who had gathered up the six healthy horses handed the reins over, "Burn them all. We can't leave our comrades here, or leave any evidence."

Smek nodded absently, raising a hand and channeling fire at the corpses. He had killed his fair share of guards during the attack, his powers honed to a level he couldn't have dreamed of before Keen joined the Falcon's Sixteenth. Before he could barely light a candle. Now, he let tears roll down through the soot on his face as he incinerated the bodies of enemy, comrade, and horse to a fine ash, burning so hot not even bone was left. His control was fine enough that the fire didn't scorch the ground below.

Apparently Muiren's luck was not strong enough to save half of his troop. But now a wind stirred, blowing the ash into the woods and scattering it. This part of Lake Hylia Province was beautiful. It was a good place to haunt, even if it was in the South.

Smek stood, having gathered himself, and he and Muiren returned to their Captain's side, who appeared to be awake again. He was blinking rapidly, an expression of confusion on his face, likely concussed. Muiren sighed.

"Captain," he started.

"Yes, Wald?" Keen replied, slurring his words slightly.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" It was three.

Keen squinted with some difficulty.

"Can't count that high. Am I concussed, or is it incredibly bright out here?"

"Concussed, I would think." He laughed, a little hysterical. "We have to-" Muiren swallowed roughly, grief welling up. Half the troop… Half of the Falcon's Sixteenth was dead. "We have to leave now, Keen."

"Help me, I'll need it." The Captain said sharply, and his second-in-command obeyed. Wask used his mind-voice to snap Eller out of the shock of his burns, and eventually Eller was able to leave the site with the supportive help of Wask and Smek, fading into the cover of the trees, where their camp and supplies were hidden.

* * *

The relative peace of Jon's duties was shattered by men on horseback, led by a local farmer. Then it was all shouting and blood, as Jon and the horsemen got the patient onto the operating table.

Jon cried out for Yelen, and she went pale under her tawny southerner tan, when she saw the deep gut wound, and the man's grimacing face.

They cut the armor and his shirt off, and it was even worse than Jon had thought, the blood tinged almost purple with poison. Yelen smeared a finger with the blood, held it to her nose and sniffed deeply.

"Now, would be the time that mamba venom would be useful, my boy. I know the antidote to Assassin's Joy. Few do." She muttered. "I have an arrow to cut out, and entrails to sew. You'll have to make the potion yourself. It's not difficult – one measure mamba venom, another measure of honey, and ten measures of distilled pure spirits. Mix them together, then light it afire. Sprinkle an equal pinch of salt and star spice into the flames. Then bring it here once the flames have died down."

Jon hurried to obey. The mamba was not happy in the slightest, and he barely managed to avoid getting bit. His hands knew what to do by now, so he doled out a blob of honey , then poured in a measure of clear alcohol, and lit it with a spark of magic. In went the salt and costly star spice. He waited patiently for the fire to extinguish itself, then poured the resulting clear, shimmering liquid into a flask.

When he returned to the operating table, he found Yelen still stitching sutures, her fingers burnt raw and shiny.

"It's the poison," she said in explanation with a nod at her hands, "What it does to a surgeon is almost as bad as what it does to the victim." She took the flask from her apprentice, slathering her hands with it and applying a splash to the open wound, which was only sluggishly bleeding. There was no need to worry about the man bleeding out, as his right hand was hooked up to a blood restorative amulet just before going into _sleep-numb_.

Jon reached in beside Yelen after coating his own hands with the potion, and began taking the blood vessels Yelen had clamped to keep the blood from gushing out, and fusing them together one by one. Pain jagged up through his hands, through his veins to burn in his navel, where his magic was anchored. He moved on to a slick piece of entrail. There was something in the wound that kept fighting him, draining his reserves quickly. Jon ignored the difficulty and kept pushing his magic through the torn flesh. Warm wetness seeped out of his nose and ears, the air ringing, tinny in his inner ear. Something ripped inside.

His legs gave out from under him, and he threw everything he could into the spell as he fell into the quiet stillness of death.

He lingered in that quiet place, waiting.

Life rushed back into him, and he jerked where he was on the stone floor, eyes widening as he gasped for breath.

"You overextended yourself, lad." Yelen said blandly, not even bothering to look at him as she working. "I've told you before, don't. Although…" She paused for a moment to check the piece of intestine he had healed. "Healed perfectly," The old healer woman said grudgingly, "As if it had never been cut. A university-trained doctor couldn't do better."

"I suppose using up one's life through magic makes the spell more potent." Jon said, crawling to his feet and beginning again on the next laceration, keeping his magic at a low boil rather than shoving all he had in. "Does he really need his appendix? It's sort of half-severed."

"If it's in there, he needs it. Fix it."

The little wormlike organ looked rather sad, so Jon took a deep breath, took hold of his power, and _yanked_ the magic out of his navel and out through his hands, into the slashed appendix.

He made a strange gurgling noise, and sank to his knees, pressing his forehead against the table leg as the dark edges of his vision rushed in and blotted everything out. When he could, he stood again, and continued, coaxing the sewn-shut organs to heal together again.

"For heaven's sake, child." Yelen said in exasperation, "You're bloodying my floor, and getting your clothes dirty. I'm glad you don't loose your bowels and bladder like most when you die, or it would be much worse. Sit in a chair while you heal, and seat yourself firmly."

"Yes, Yelen." Jon said with the slightest twist of a smile. They ended up loosely tying him to a high backed chair, and it wasn't until the patient's innards were restored that Jon allowed himself to stop draining his powers fatally.

All that was left to close was the tattered edges of the wound that they had widened to reach the patient's organs. Jon reached for his power, and found nothing to draw on.

He panicked for second. What had happened? Even draining himself fatally, there had remained dregs of magic.

No, wait – there. There it was. Only a tiny seed, growing steadily with each breath, if slower than he was used to.

"You've done enough, my boy." Yelen said as she made the final suture to close the edges of skin together, and then rubbed feeling back into her arthritic hands. She slathered on a final coat of the antidote potion, and covered his hands similarly. "It's been twelve hours of work."

Jon boggled. He hadn't noticed a third of the day gone by. He, whose innate ability was timesense!

"Really?"

"Yes. I've felt the time passing, but I'm sure _dying_ several times messes with one's sense of time, individual magic or no." She said wryly.

"Still." He said, shaking his head ruefully, "I need to find the limits of my… thing."

"The limits of your inability to die?"

"Yes."

"Can't say I'll be able to help you. 'Do no harm,' my lad."

"Yes, Yelen."

"All done in here for now, Healer Yelen, Master Kilresey?" Elys asked, poking her head into the operating room.

"Yes, thank you, child." Yelen said gratefully. "We'll keep him in _sleep-numb_ for the night. Continue feeding the blood restorative system more of those red packets from the third cupboard to the right in the stock room."

"Yes'm." Elys said, bobbing her head. Yelen stretched her back out with a shuddering groan, one hand aiming for the ceiling, the other pressed to the curve of her lower back.

"Bed for both of us, I think. And soon." She said as she straightened, taking out a slate and chalk and writing down instructions for the nurses. "Just make the morning rounds as usual. Be a dear and wake us in eight hours, hm, Miss Elys?"

"Yes, Healer Yelen." Elys said dutifully. Yelen nodded, and left for the washroom. Jon followed. They wiped their hands slick with potion and gore off on a towel, then took turns rinsing water over the other's hands, the soft lye soap harsh on tired skin. Jon cleaned the blood off of his face and out from his ears, wincing at the soreness he felt there.

That taken care of, Yelen headed to her bedroom, while Jon shimmied up the ladder into the attic, a low-roofed room under the eaves. There was a mattress stuffed with straw there, a trunk for his possessions, and a rickety chair and a light stone lamp to read by. There wasn't room for much else – the spaces too narrow for a person were stuffed with burlap bags of bandages and sheets. The thatch smelt musty but kept the damp out. Jon stripped out of his clothes, pulled up the thin summer quilt, and was out like a light as soon as he put his head down.

For once, he dreamt rather than relived the memories of another life. No glass towers, blaring lights, cacophonous music.

It still wasn't the kind of dream Rick had spoken of experiencing – bits of muddled-nonsense and emotion. Jon was there in the corridor that sat somewhere between his mind and his soul, the hallway with two doors. One led to the Monster's room, the other belonged to the Dreamer.

It was a dark space, without windows. Behind him loomed a door that wasn't there, coming from the direction of the waking world, of control. The air was thick and oppressive, neither hot nor cold but utterly dense. It wasn't until something rattled that Dark/Jon noticed the Dreamer's door was open.

"Hey there." The Dreamer said in a cheerful voice.

"It's so dark in here." Dark said.

"It's your mind, do something about it." The Dreamer sounded amused. Dark frowned.

"How?"

"It's a metaphor. You're feeling mostly negative thoughts these days. What did you _expect_ your mind would be like?"

"What? Metaphor?"

"Christ Almighty. This again." The Dreamer complained in a defeated sigh, then added _sotto_ voice, "Anasi, bro, why did you drag me into this place? I was going to be a _pediatrician…_ Kid, think something happy, like that boyfriend of yours." The room went pitch black. "Okay, maybe bad connotations there. Moving on. Happiness, lad."

Dark pressed his lips tight and thought of his fourteenth birthday, of how he had saved every rupee from holidays, birthdays, best of class, and treasures in the trash heap, for years to buy a good sword so when he came of age and was shipped out, he could live longer and thus keep Rick alive as well. Rick had taken Dark to the smithy, and told him, _the best magic can't make, just pick one._

_There's no way you have enough for that, _he'd replied, but Rick had grinned down at him, back when the blonde boy hadn't yet hit his growth spurt. Rick had always been an early bloomer.

_You've been saving too. Together we have enough for the best this smithy has._

And they'd had enough. That sword served as the marker for Rick's grave now, coin half dangling from it. It hurt to think of that loss still, but Dark found a little bittersweet peace in the fact that if the gravesite were disturbed someday, once the flesh had left the bones and gristle, that Rick's soul and Rick's bones would rise and defend the sacred site as all good dead soldiers must. That's all Rick had ever wanted, to be a good soldier.

When Dark was done wiping tears from his stinging eyes, the hall was candle-bright.

"Good to see that worked." The Dreamer gave a jaunty wave from where he was braced against the Monster's door, keeping it from slamming open. The Dreamer was tall and lean, short hair a jetty black that was neatly combed and parted to the side. His irises contained the same strange brown-gold banding found in polished stones of tiger's eye. He wore blue denim trousers and a loose red jumper with a hood. Upon the front of the jumper was emblazoned the cryptic legend: 'UW: Madison. Go Badgers!' Clothes such as Dark had never seen before.

"Who are you?" Dark asked weakly, "Really."

"Myself." The Dreamer said in reply.

"Give me a name."

"Tom."

"You're lying."

"I did. I am myself." The Dreamer smiled, almost a smirk. "It's not that simple, kid. You think a soul needs a name? The mind and soul thinks of itself only as _me. _Doesn't everyone wish for a name that they feel fits them better than the one their parents gave them? Like you; be you Dark of the Weaver clan, or Jon Kilresey. Isn't that so? We are merely ourselves in the end. But just as a name lives on in memory longer than people's recollections of that person's significance, so the soul itself cannot speak its name after death."

"So am I possessed, then? If you're dead and a soul."

"Actually, we're the ghost. You and I, we're just using this body."

Dark frowned.

"But I was born! I remember my childhood! This is _my_ life! Never did my parents mention any change, any person besides myself when I was young."

"You are me, Dark. Only with different memories. There was only so much I could do, when this body was young. The owner of this body - you call him a 'monster'? – he creates chaos wherever he goes. He was born this way for a purpose. It was all I could do to keep control away from him. That's how you came to exist."

"And yet sometimes I lose control…" Dark said flatly, mind churning furiously, "Not doing your job properly then, are you?" The Dreamer's face darkened.

"Watch your tongue!" He spat, "You don't know anything about me! You are not my concern. I am only here for him. The reprehensible things that man has done are beyond forgiveness, and you dare question me when at every hour of the day, I work to keep him from plaguing this world further? You-"

And the Monster pounded furiously on the door the Dreamer was leaning against, shaking it violently. The Dreamer's banded eyes went wide, and he braced himself against it. Dark found himself moving over to help keep the door shut, bracing his legs as he leaned against it bodily.

"WILLAM!" The Monster howled, his fists drumming a thunderous tattoo on the wooden door that locked him out. "Willam Firstman! Let me out, you fucking coward! When Kamiarn finds out what you've done, she's going to destroy you, Demonchild! But not before tearing apart this cursed country looking for me!" He continued his poisonous ranting for a long time, until the pounding slowed. The din eased to make the Monster's labored panting audible.

The Dreamer spared a hand to wipe sweat from his face, tired. The Monster gave the door a final churlish kick, and subsided, breathing heavy on the other side of the door.

"Go on, kid." The Dreamer said dully, looking at Dark with flat, dead eyes, "It's dawn already. The healer woman is calling for you." He let his legs weaken, and slid slowly down the door until he was sitting propped against the door. The Dreamer twiddled his fingers slightly, and a heavy bolt appeared to keep the rough door shut.

"Kamiarn…" The Monster whispered quietly, voice choked. Dark could not tell whether the creature was sobbing or merely exhausted. "Kamiarn," The thing said again, and Dark closed his eyes, turning for the doorway that led out of the space behind his eyes, to the waking world.

Jon Kilresey opened his eyes. It was close to dawn, and there was a long day ahead of him.

"Jon?" Yelen's voice warbled from the bottom of the ladder to the loft, "Come have breakfast while it's still hot."

Bleary eyed, he dressed in fresh clothing and clambered down the ladder and into the cramped kitchen in the back of the cottage. There was a badly-beaten table that had originally been used as an operating table until one of the legs got too shaky and had been retired to serve its duty in the kitchen. Yelen insisted on keeping the food preparation, medical operation, and chemist areas separate, so the cottage had two hearths that fed a single chimney. The chairs were mismatched, the seats padded with woven grasses.

Yelen herself sat at the table nursing a cup of bitter coffee, as Elys Tedal stirred something in a pan held over flames. She moved aside a little so Jon could access the tea kettle and pour himself a cup of black tea. After adding a little lemon juice into it from the bottle in the chilling cabinet, he took long, grateful gulps of the hot beverage from his cup.

"What're you making, Miss?" He asked hopefully, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder, oddly coy.

"Honey-spiced rice congee. And raisins in yogurt." She replied, turning back to the cooking porridge. Jon devoured up his breakfast when it was set before him, and drained the cup of tea. When he was finished he washed and dried the dishes himself, then replaced them in the proper cupboard. Jon went to pour himself more tea, filling a second cup for Elys, who was devouring her portion of the porridge and yogurt.

"How do you like your tea?" Jon asked quietly.

"A dot of cream, two sugars, please." She said through a mouthful of rice congee. Jon fixed his cup with a little lemon, and prepared Elys' tea to her specifications. She took it carefully, so as not to spill it.

"The meal was delicious, Miss Tedal." He said, sitting beside her and wrapping his hands around the hot steaming cup. "Thank you. But honey? Spices? Raisins for breakfast? What's the occasion? If you don't mind me asking."

"Well, Healer Yelen has agreed to take me on as a trainee nurse. I like nursing more than baking and selling vegetables, and I can still garden, so I think it's a good job for a girl in my situation." By situation she meant that her parents were still stuck in a warzone, and hadn't been heard from in months.

"Congratulations," Jon approved, raising his tea cup as if to toast her. "I hope you enjoy reading, you'll be doing a lot of it in the future." Elys nodded and smiled with the grace and warmth of a well-brought up lass. "And your cooking is quite good, so I'll wager you'll find chemistry far easier than I did."

"You're not that bad anyone, my lad." Yelen smiled crookedly, "Although you had me worried for a time."

"More importantly, though," Elys said after Yelen's joke, "We identified the patient that came in last night. It was the Gerudo Duke, Ganondorf, one of the Southern Lords, Jon."

"What, really?" Dark blurted, shocked. He drank deeply from his cup as if to fortify himself.

"It's such an honor to help him," Elys continued brightly, wide brown eyes excited, "Him being one of the best minds of the war."

"I… wow." Jon said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "I can hardly believe it. I couldn't tell from last night."

"Yes, well, most people don't look like themselves when they're bleeding out, Jon."

"Fair enough, Yelen." He replied.

"The Duke will make a good recovery, but he'll need to be cared for at all hours for at least a week, Jon." Yelen took a final slurp of coffee and set the cup down. "I'd let Elys do it as she's our best volunteer nurse, but you know the right spells and she hasn't learned them yet, so it will be your task to care for him, lad."

"Yes, mum."

There was indeed much to be done for Duke Ganondorf, as Yelen had said. The man had not yet woken, so Jon took care of feeding into the man's veins a combination of saline solution and the same antidote that had been used liberally from the man's surgery. Ganondorf was taken off blood packets, which left Jon to regularly replace (and dispose of) the little pot full of gathered urine and feces that magically kept the man from soiling himself and the bed.

After the odious and hated pot was dumped out, scoured with sand, scrubbed clean and left in the sun to dry, Jon returned to the well-lit surgery room. There were large glass windows on three sides of the windows. Glass panes like these were expensive in the South, and impractical as they kept heat in, but the surgery room had to be pristine, and there was only so much spells could filter out of the outside air. Light stones in lanterns hung from multiple points on the ceiling, to illuminate whenever sunlight wasn't enough.

Ganondorf was given his first daily wash, and then his sutures were smeared with herbal ointment. Finally, Jon began to tend the minor injuries he and Yelen hadn't healed the previous night. A balm that contained witch-hazel and oil infused with yarrow was applied to the Duke's bruises and the shallow dent that had once been a horrid arrow wound. Jon cleaned any remaining cuts and used a spike of magic to heal them completely. The stitched abdominal wound would have to wait for another several hours.

Jon took the moment to examine his patient, who lay stretched out on the surgery table, a pillow filled with sand serving to support the man's neck and head, a sun-warmed blanket covering him.

Ganondorf didn't look like the enemy Jon had so often imagined. He didn't look like a hero either, or even a king. He was tall and broad with muscles, yes, but his skin was a burnt sienna hue, weather-beaten into leather, marked with lines that spoke of grim frowns, focus, and there was a network of fine wrinkles around his eyes. The man's hair was dark, with a reddish shine in the sunlight, he had fleshy lips, and his large nose was hooked and flattened slightly by multiple breaks in the cartilage.

Jon let his power loose to cloud around his patient, quietly and subtly enhancing the man's natural healing capability. The Duke of the Gerudo Province stirred slightly, muttering something brief and incomprehensible under his breath, eyelids flickering. The apprentice healer touched the older man's forehead and put him into _sleep-numb_ once again. He then finished the healing enhancement spell, and looked for Yelen.

She was tending the garden with Elys, but he could tell the two women had been doing their rounds – they smelled strongly of the liniment used to soothe Amuel Barkbourn's wrenched back – it was a sharp, powerful odor.

"How is our latest patient, Jon?" Yelen inquired, not looking up from the oregano she was harvesting.

"He looks well. Nearly woke up a bit, so I put him in _sleep-numb_ – didn't want him to strain those stitches."

"That's good and well. And a wise decision. I think this evening we might be able heal the gash up halfway. Be a dear and hang these herbs in the chemist's room?"

Jon took up the herbs and flowers his Mistress had indicated, twining the stems together with twine and hanging them from hooks on the ceiling. He then returned to the surgery to keep watch over the wounded Duke.

* * *

After three days Duke Ganondorf's gut wound was healed and the sutures were taken out. He made several attempts to wake up, only to be sent to sleep again. A nutritious potion was added to the regular infusion of saline solution, but the Gerudo man would have to wake eventually or he would starve and sicken.

The first time Ganondorf awoke, he was not fully conscious. He groaned deeply, looking around himself blurrily. Yelen grasped his searching hand, and told him he was safe, that he had been sick, but was better now. That seemed to comfort the man, and he dozed off not long afterward.

Jon was alone with his appointed charge when the Gerudo king regained both consciousness and lucidity with a low grunt.

"Oh, hello. Welcome to the world of the waking, your lordship." Jon said, not bothering to turn around from where he was cleaning one of the surgery room's large windows.

"And what are you supposed to be?" The older man said slowly, voice a little rough. Jon grit his teeth – he hated people who talked down to him, especially now that he was out of the army.

"Jon Kilresey," He replied, forgoing the honorific in his annoyance. "Apprentice to Mastery-trained Healer Yelen Hodas of Thrim."

"I said _what_, not _who_." The man replied, rolling onto his side. _He's still under the effects of the pain ball treatment,_ Jon had to remind himself, and vigorously scrubbed at a smear with a solvent-damp rag.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"What race are you?" The dark-skinned man persisted.

"Elvish." Jon bit out.

"Clearly not. No elf, or Hylian for that matter, has three minds, two souls, and one body. I've never seen a Demonchild like you before."

"That doesn't sound very flattering, sir. And yes, I'm aware I'm unusual."

There was a long pause from the patient. Jon took the moment to swap his current, dirty rag for a fresh one.

"What do you have me on?" Ganondorf asked quietly, somewhat sheepish, "I'm not normally this rude to those whom I owe my life to."

The apprentice healer calmed down a tad, mollified.

"I gave you a level five pain ball. And actually, I think you owe me four lives. Or maybe five. I sort of lost count towards the end. Let's make it four." The last window clean, Jon turned around to look at his patient.

"What are you—Din above!" Ganondorf boggled at Jon. "I thought Link looked…" He shook his head. "Thereo claimed he was a faithful man to his wife, yet it seems he sowed his wild oats quite widely. My boy has his eyes and hair, something about the hands, but you…"

"Everything but the eyes, I know." Jon said despairingly.

"Yes. I've never seen such eyes."

"You knew him?" Jon still wasn't sure he was the son of Hyrule's most famous hero – something inside rebelled at the thought – but even so he wanted to know more about the mysterious immortal. So many people in his life had spoken of Jon's likeness to the thin-faced, solemn image of the Foreigner passed around. Twice his bloodmother had had to undergo the shameful truth spell and declare she'd never slept with the Hero knowingly – lessening his clan's standing in the strict customs of Patcheem.

Even Rick had been fascinated by the hero, although to be fair, he'd only gotten interested in the subject because of his bondmate's close resemblance.

"I did." Ganondorf admitted. "But it is a long story, and there is always work to be done if one is an apprentice. And we are strangers."

"It took a costly toll, healing you, my Lord." Jon replied with a lackadaisical shrug of a shoulder, taking a seat. "My magic's run dry for now."

"Draining all your magic is fatal. Everyone knows this. Why do you think most people are afraid to use theirs? You might have minimal reserves, but I doubt you've lost it all."

"Not much is fatal for me." Jon shrugged again, the movement running down his arms as his hands spread open. "You said it yourself – I'm not normal."

"I didn't know quite how much." The Duke grumbled.

"Most of our patients are stabilized, and Healer Yelen is teaching our new apprentice nurse. I'm to look after you for the time being, and also to entertain you. Since you must have five days of bed rest before you can get up and move about. What else is there to do but talk?"

"Very well." Ganondorf said gravely, "I wish to know more about the apprentice to whom I owe my life four times over."

"Must I start?" Jon inquired, and the man nodded.

"Youngest first." The swarthy king said with a slight smile.

_We're older. I lived on Vanity for almost one hundred years, and have existed on this world for at least ten thousand years. _The Dreamer commented idly, and the Monster gave a snort, not to be excluded. _He's older too,_ the Dreamer chuckled.

_Not helping._ Jon told them both, and ignored any replies.

"All right then, my Lord," He acquiesced, "Let me begin with where I was born, in a military settlement named Patcheem..."

* * *

Link rubbed his hands together, shivering in the cave he had been imprisoned in. The water itself was warm enough, heated by runes carved into the underwater cave walls, but this dry cave had a narrow shaft to the surface that let in cold mountain air from above.

Small blue light stones set in the walls provided hazy light which reflected dancingly off the water filling half the cave cell. The reflections shattered as Ruto surfaced out of the only viable exit to the prison – a long passageway filled with water.

"I've brought you your dinner." She announced; slapping a small net down at Link's feet. She reached up onto a protruding rock and hauled herself onto the dry part of the floor.

"Thank you, Ruto." He said, opening the net and smiling when he saw it was not cavefish today, but cave shrimp. She had thoughtfully killed them before giving them to him, but had not removed the head, tail, or sand vein. He pulled out his pocket knife – Link had been allowed to keep his bottomless pack, but not his saddlebags, which meant his good boots were gone, and so was his headrest and blanket. Link flipped the knife open, and began to clean the shrimp. "You said you were to speak to the Prince's council today?" He asked – the five Zora who advised the ruling Prince were the ones with the true power among the Zora people.

"I did." She responded, "The High Priestess is ill – I will replace her when I reach full maturity. So I have influence. But they won't listen to me!" Her tail gave the stone floor a good meaty _smack_ in frustration.

"They said they wouldn't kill me." Link pointed out, "At least there's that."

"But they won't let you leave! I will not bring shame upon the line of priestesses by failing to repay you. The council thinks of nothing but the One Water, and we are left to idle in the shelter of the Cavernous Realm, stagnating, diminishing! Once the Pearl were the rulers of the entire Sourcewater, but now we hide in these caves, growing cave-pale from lack of light."

"I've heard of the One Water before. What does it refer to, Ruto?" Link's hands were busy starting up his stone-cooker as he spoke.

"It is the cycle of existence, and of fate. The world began from nothing, and returns to nothing. From nothing the world will come again, and so will be destroyed. Any attempt to escape fate will only bring it to you faster. So fate must be accepted – nothing is within our control but our own will, and acceptance of the One. Death is not to be feared, as it is a temporary state. We are reborn just as the world will be in the next beginning. So the lines of priestesses have spoken, and those who listen are enlightened." Her tail slapped again, "But the Council has forgotten the way of will, and remembers only acceptance of the One. They reject contact with the outside world, preferring to do nothing more than bicker about philosophy, and tend to the fish and weed farms."

"So shake them up – use your will on them. You're certainly stubborn enough to succeed."

Ruto looked shocked, her over-sized black eyes growing even wider.

"I can't do that! Only the High Priestess-"

"Yes you can." Link interrupted, "You'll be ready for being High Priestess in what, three years?"

"But-"

"Ruto." He scolded, "You can outrun seventy Conch Zora, and then survive walking through the Geyserland, but you can't assert yourself around stale politicians? Please."

"Women are supposed to be subservient!" She hissed.

"And who tells them that? Men!" He snapped back.

"I don't see why you care – you're male!" By now she was so livid her skin was flushed deep blue-violet.

"Half the time I don't feel like it." Link confessed, stopping the fish-girl in her tracks.

"What?"

"I—does it matter?" He pulled his cap off and scratched the back of his head, fingers tangling in the stringy braid he had messily woven days ago. "My people are mostly women. Technically I'm an elf – but I don't like Hylian men, I don't want to be like them. But I'm not like the King, either. All my good friends are girls, they make sense. I don't hate being a boy, but sometimes… Women are so much subtler and smarter. I can't understand why Hylian and Sheikah women - and Zora females, for that matter – why they let men tell them what to do. Gender is such a stupid thing. I don't understand why people put so much stock in it."

Ruto stared at him, her large black eyes wide at the revelation.

"In my people," She said slowly, "When the male population grows less than that of females, the aggressive females become male. It is a permanent change. I would not be High Priestess if I became male."

"What would you be?"

She snorted. "Second in line to be Prince."

"And it's the Prince's council who has true power." Link summed up. Ruto nodded. "Tell me Ruto," he said, eyebrows raised as he thought carefully, "Is the council given that power legally, or only by tradition?"

She grinned, revealing rows of peg teeth. "I know you now! You are no messenger, Link Forrester! You are a trickster, like the Octopus from Sanri's tales."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He winked at her mischievously. She giggled, a bubbly ringing that echoed through the small cave. "The problem with people who set themselves in stone is that they seem immoveable to those who want change. So you have to act like a river-" He paused meaningfully, like a teacher baiting a student to finish the flow of logic.

"A river flows around an object, wearing away at the stone as it undermines the sand the stone rests upon." Ruto said with relish.

Link nodded approvingly. "Water isn't always liquid. Heat it up and you get steam, cool it, and it hardens to ice."

"I know that. What are you trying to say?"

"Of all the elements – fire, air, earth, and water – water is the most changeable. You should be able to outmaneuver the council if you keep your wits about you."

"How?"

"Until I can leave here, I'm going to teach two things every self-respecting woman ought to know – how to lie, and how to get your way around others while making them think it their idea."

* * *

After so many missions deep in Southern territory, Arrant in Plains Provence seemed like an entirely different world. What was left of the Wolf's Pack had been declared 'heroes of the realm' for taking out two important Southern leaders, and maiming another. The Pack had then been sent from the command camp on the Plains/Imally border to Arrant to recover. The army had even let the Pack stay in a nicer inn called 'the Red-Winged Blackbird' instead of housed in tents or the permanent barracks.

"No more suicide missions." Keen said with a disbelieving shake of his head.

"Really?" Muiren seemed surprised. Captain Ferrick Keen just nodded.

"We're 'too valuable to lose,' is what the upper ranks said. There's some talk about getting us knighted or something equally ridiculous."

Now it was Muiren's turn to shake his head. He ran fingers through his short head of pale blonde hair, standing it on end. It was strange to see him and the remnants of the troop clean and fresh after months of filth and blood, Keen reflected sourly.

For this night, it was just Muiren and Keen eating together at the inn. Smek had left to find a leyline station to send a message to his fiancée, one Miss Susa Farrow of Pell in the Province of the Crown. Eller was still recovering from burns on his head and face, his neck, and down his shoulder and side. Remarkably, Wask had taken on the burden of caring for the giant man entirely of his own will, displaying a gentleness that seemed out of character on the usually irritable and snappish man.

A rather curvaceous barmaid set down two cups of hot tea on the corner table the two soldiers were sitting at.

"Cook's almost done with your dinner, sirs. I'll be back soon." She said with a slow smile, sashaying her way around the tables to the inn's bar, packed with customers.

Keen sipped his tea carefully, then set it down to let it cool further after he burnt the tip of his tongue.

"We're to have a bonfire night tomorrow." He muttered. Wald Muiren looked up, raising an eyebrow in query, drawing an explanation from Keen. "It's a Patcheem tradition. When a good soldier falls, it's customary for those who knew him to build a bonfire, and speak of their life. They drink to his memory, and then stand vigil until the fire has burnt itself out."

"That sounds perfect." Wald said with a melancholy twist of his lips. Both men went quiet, lost in thoughts. There was too much background noise for the silence between them to grow uncomfortable. The barmaid swooped in, laying down the meal they'd ordered, one dish at a time.

"Two rabbit stews, bread, grapes and cheese." She said, laying a mug of wine down in front of Keen. "Wine's on the house." The maid said with a smile and a wink. Keen smiled politely back at her. "Let me know if you need anything else, sir."

"Thank you, we will." He replied softly. She flicked a wheaten lock over her shoulder, regarding the soldier for a long moment before returning to her duties. Keen waited until she was gone before he pushed the wine over to his second-in-command.

"For you." Keen told Muiren.

"Why?" Was the perplexed reply.

"I'm not old enough."

"Of course you are, you couldn't be a day younger than twenty-two-"

"Wald, I'm fifteen. I lied about my age so they'd let me out of Patcheem early."

"Then how do you look so old?" Muiren asked, mind unable to accept this new information.

"I've always been an early bloomer. I think it has something to do with my problem with magic. Maybe even time doesn't work right on me."

"That's absolutely insane, Ferrick." Muiren blurted, then appeared ashamed. He took a healthy swig of wine to gather his wits.

Keen grinned crookedly. "When have I ever been known for my sanity, Wald?"

Suddenly certain observations Muiren had made made sense. The rapid mood swings, the restless melancholy, the lingering over painful issues. The impassioned declarations. The lack of regard for his own life.

"Born early too." Keen added around a mouth of stew, "I was born in nine months, not twenty. My bloodmother was so happy to get me out of her, she cried for joy. I don't think she ever really looked at me again, after the first time she saw me. My voice cracked when I was nine. Dark was actually older than me, but he was such an old soul it didn't really matter that I looked old so soon."

"Hmm." Muiren said, and finished his meal in silence, mind whirling with thought.

Keen methodically emptied his plate, then scraped the stew bowl clean. He knocked back the dregs of his tea, then said quietly to Muiren,

"After all that's happened, you think I'd be able to keep my mind straight, after everything…" his velvety voice went rough, "…All the men we lost. And now, Wald? I just want to live. Hell of a time to want it, but there you go." Keen stood abruptly.

"Hey. Where're you going?" Muiren asked in confusion.

"I'm going to buy that serving girl a drink, and see where I can go. It's been a long time since I've had romantic company."

"You're underage!" Muiren hissed, grey eyes wide. Keen laughed loudly, and sat down.

"Wald, how many girls – or boys for that matter – have you been with?"

"A few. Two local lasses back in Stonewall." Wald flushed. "Not often."

"Then you won't know what it's like to be married, or properly courting. There's no age of consent in Patcheem. Pair-bonds are encouraged to fool around with each other. It strengthens the bond and keeps the girls from having babes too young. And bondmate's are as good as married – they sleep in the same bed, share chores, and money. My own clan was happy to send me to Dark's bed with his clan as early as they could. But that's beside the point. Sometimes intimacy is not about the sex. It's about being alive, sharing comfort. I could use that right now. I'd rather not find a willing lad, but that maid – was her name Amie? – she seemed nice." Keen nodded to Wald, "So I think I'll give it a go. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Wald. Goodnight."

Keen stood, and made his way over to the barmaid Amie, who was standing at the bar. They shared smiles, and sat at the bar together, talking quietly.

Wald didn't know why he was watching the two, feeling that he shouldn't stare. But as he drank his wine slowly, he found his wandering gaze inescapably drawn toward the couple. He watched as Amie slid closer to Keen on the wooden bench, and before long the girl was leaning against the soldier, blonde head on his shoulder. Soon after, Keen wrapped his arm around her waist as he ordered another drink for his nightly companion.

Two men stumbled into the crowded tavern and sat down at Muiren's table. It was only polite to introduce himself, and before long Muiren found himself deeply involved in a card game, using pistachio nuts as currency.

The hour grew late. Muiren ordered another cup of wine, and once it was empty, he excused himself from the game and found the room he shared with Keen in the back of the tavern. He knocked cautiously, and when no one responded, he let himself in.

Keen was sleeping on his back, with the barmaid's head tucked into his shoulder. The pair had had the decency to dress after whatever they had done that night, and pulled the blanket high. There was a peaceful cast to Keen's strong features, and Walden Muiren found some small, suspicious part of him relax at seeing his dear, grim friend find some measure of happiness after all that had happened.

Muiren changed into his sleeping clothes quickly, and followed Keen and Amie the barmaid into a deep sleep.

* * *

1. There are three wards of a medieval military formation: the front 'vanguard', the middle, and the 'rear'.

2. I had to rewrite the fight scenes at least three times before I was satisfied.

3. Killing off half of the Falcon's Sixteenth was a snap decision I made while writing this. I didn't like it, but it felt right. I spent a couple hours frantically trying to decide who the story could live without. This is the result. God, it hurts.

4. Chapter Fifty-One will be entitled: Tales to Tell.

5. Merry Christmas everyone! I have an extra present to you all. I wrote a short story called 'Exodus' that recounts part of Kattala's childhood travels. You can find it on Fictionpress at this link (just remove the spaces) http : / / www . fictionpress . com / s / 2981241 / 1 / Exodus_A_story_from_Soul_Weaver

* * *

As always, please review!


	52. Tales To Tell

**Chapter Fifty-One: Tales To Tell**

The cavern prison grew colder as winter edged closer. Link took to regular dips in the warm water to keep warm, but the chill of evaporation was harsh and almost unbearable. He had to rely on his Liar's tunic for warmth, but it wasn't enough – his boots had been taken, and the tunic didn't cover his legs, arms, or feet. The Zora had also taken his bags and bottomless pack.

Link's skin grew pale in the dim cave, and he took to exercising as much as he could, to keep up his strength. There was barely enough room for it, the cell being five paces by six long. But despite the cramped conditions, he did calisthenics thrice a day, wheeling through his fighting forms relentlessly, working on speed one set, strength and precision another. On and on, until he ached, his muscles burning with heat. Each night he was too exhausted to feel the cold.

Link was afraid it would not be long before he didn't wake up the morning after a particularly icy night.

The cave water lapped gently at the rock floor, the ripples heralding an approach. Ruto popped straight out of the water in a leap, splattering the dry section of the floor with water. An adult-sized Zora followed, not bothering to raise more than her head above the service. Her skin had the healthy iridescent blue flush that all females had. There seemed to be little difference between male and female Zora besides coloration – the males were a flat clouded grey. There was not a significant difference in size between genders.

The adult had a long, ugly scar running down her naked left arm. She had brought a large woven kelp bag with her.

"You must be Sanri." Link said warmly, nodding politely.

"Aye. That I be." She replied in a stilted and heavy accent. "Ruto tell of ye plight, to me. Have brought help things. Sealskin." Sanri said, pulling a sleek grey pelt out. "For cold."

"Thank you." Link thanked her with great enthusiasm, running his fingers through the thick fur when she handed it to him.

"Brought mushrooms, fish. For eating." Several handfuls of fungi were scooped out of the bag, followed by two fat cave fish. "Heat stone." The stone was misshapen.

"Great, I can finally _cook_ my dinners!"

"Not." Sanri said.

"Our heating stones are meant for water, not ruining fish. It is for keeping you warm – it will not be hot enough to cook anything." Ruto said, slicking the scales on her tail down along the grain.

"Pity." Link sighed ruefully. Sanri nodded.

"Last. Chisel." She pulled out a battered chisel. "And hammer," Sanri added, emptying a fist-sized rock from the bag. At Link's look of confusion, she snorted. It was a very Ruto-like expression. Or maybe Ruto had learned it from her caretaker. "Chisel way out. Make more hole in rock."

"That'll take forever, chiseling that shaft big enough to squeeze through. Isn't there another way?"

"The caves are like a labyrinth to outsiders. And mostly underwater. Even if you _could_ breathe water, the passages are so heavily swum and guarded you would get caught immediately." Was Ruto's reply.

"Well, _damn_."

Sanri nodded in agreement. If she wasn't quite as fluent in the modern vernacular, she at least understood more of it than she spoke. Pearl Zora, having isolated themselves for over a century, had preserved their language while the rest of the country's language had evolved over the years.

Link spread the seal skin on a dry part of the stone floor, then sat on it, pulling out his belt knife. "Well, then. I suppose we'll have to change plans. Would you ladies care to eat with me?" He picked up one of the plump fishes and began to clean it.

"We would be honored." Ruto made some room for Sanri, who pulled herself out of the water. Link began to lecture on various tells that people might give whilst lying, as he gutted the fish and scraped the scales off. Ruto happily ate the organs. By now Link was accustomed to eating fish raw – the flesh was firm but chewable, the flavor sweet and impossibly juicy. Sanri crunched down the bones of the fish, after she gulped up her own catch. The fungi she'd provided were spongy and somewhat musky, but filling.

After a long drink of water from the canteen Link's captors had allowed him to keep, the three conspirators discussed the physicalities of Zora expression – apparently Zora could learn to dilate their pupils upon command, feigning interest or attraction, but it was a rare skill. Sanri demonstrated, and the rest of the evening was spent coaxing Ruto through the learning process. Night fell outside – the air near the ventilation shaft grew colder, and the little beam of light that filtered through went out. The light stones in the chamber always glowed gently.

The hour grew late – Ruto and Sanri said their goodbyes, and dove into the watery tunnel to turn in for the night. Link took a deep pull off his water canteen, and munched on a bundle of pounded kelp to round out his scant diet of fish, shellfish, fungi, and vegetation.

Link took the time to bathe in the warm water, scrubbing his body with sand from the tunnel bottom. He longed for some soap, or even a comb. When his skin grew waterlogged and began to wrinkle, he submerged himself one last time, getting the sand out of his hair. How long would he be trapped here? The Zora guards had used magic to create a bubble of air around Link as they had transported him through the underwater caverns. How long could Link stay underwater? Could he learn to hold his breath long enough to escape, or would he have to chisel his way out?

Link ran out of air. He surfaced, gasping. The elf boy got out the water, shaking the water from his body, wringing it from his long blonde hair, long overdue for a cut. When it was neatly braided, he jammed his knit hat on his head, making sure his long ears were covered. On went his clothes, the liar's tunic last, warming his skin.

The seal that had died for its fur had been a large one – there was enough to pad the floor, and also wrap around him. Link clutched the heat stone to his chest, which got no warmer than deliciously hot. Warm at night for the first time in a long time, Link was in bliss, the heavy fur silky and plush, his stomach full. Ruto only came twice a day, which meant he had to ration what she brought to last the day.

He closed his eyes, willing himself into sleep as he'd learned to do over the course of his journey.

Link woke after a night of vague but pleasant dreams, stiff from the hard rock floor, but feeling better that morning than those nights previous when he'd slept in the cold.

Link rinsed his mouth, rubbing his fingers over his teeth to clean them. The rest of his morning preparations consisted of washing his face, doing a few stretches to loosen up, and eating a small meal of mushrooms and pounded cave weed.

He rinsed his mouth again to remove the foul taste, and turned to examine the chisel Sanri had brought. It was two hand's lengths long, and made of a hard, shining metal - not iron, steel, or bronze. There was no rust on it, despite the fact that it must have been stored underwater.

The cave ceiling was about six feet above the floor. The ceiling sloped down to five feet near the ventilation shaft, the stone looked like some kind of combination of grey slate and limestone.

Link sighed, and looked up at the shaft between captivity and freedom. He hefted the chisel, considering how big a tunnel he would have to carve. Three feet in diameter sounded appropriate – he would be climbing as he carved upwards. Link examined the rock walls of his cave cell, and then carefully closed the good fingers on his bad hand around the chisel. He raised the rock hammer and struck. Chips of rock flew. Again, deeper. Again. Again, this time to the left, again and moving left again, until he'd carved a sturdy foothold two feet from the cave floor. Another foothold, and Link found a rhythm, driving the chisel into the rock face.

That rhythm drove him, a pair of drums sounded in his mind, followed by flutes, and a single guitar. Magic lent him strength, energy to continue.

He struck too deep – and an alien, bitter energy flashed through him, burning hot and needling cold together at once. He dropped the stone and chisel without feeling or hearing them clatter to the rock floor.

The drums in his mind's ear grew louder, throbbing like the heartbeat of the land, slower than a Hylian's heart would sound in their chest.

_The sky opened up_

_And down came rain_

_Down came rain_

_Down came rain_

_The sun it shone_

_And gold grew grain_

_Gold grew grain_

_Gold grew grain._

A woman's voice sang, low and sweet as summer sunshine, strong and steady as a tiger's purr. There was a strange echo, lilting words slurred, the vowels broad, the consonants heavy. Where had he heard such a voice, that thick accent before?

_The flood it roared_

_An' washed us away_

_Washed us away_

_Washed us away_

_The god he came_

_What did he say?_

_Did he say?_

_Did he say?_

Kattala.

* * *

Kattala braided her hair as she watched Dampe and the gravedigger Eduward dig a pit in front of the fresh grave marker she was sitting on. She swayed with the song as she sang, the two men using the melody to time the movements of their shovels.

_Well war came here_

_And took our boys_

_Took our boys _

_Took our boys_

_Yes war came here_

_It took our joys_

_Took our joys_

_Took our joys_

_The storm it blew and _

_Stripped us clean_

_Stripped us clean_

_It stripped us clean_

_The hole it grew and _

_All grew green_

_All grew green_

_All grew green_

It would not be long before the grieving family of Elsra Hepwort arrived with the casket containing the woman's body. The awareness of the local souls hovered heavy over the cemetery, woken by the gravediggers, curious as to who would be joining their number. One particular spirit hovered just over her shoulder, dry as drought and deep as the One Ocean. It reminded her of Link, of how his soul had felt when he played on his ocarina. There would be no point in asking the shade who they were – souls did not have nor need names.

Kattala tied off her plait and picked up the refrain of the song, the gravediggers joining in.

_My heart is achin'_

_No comfort to be found_

_I have been breaking_

_Can you hear the sound_

_As my_

_(Feet take me up_

_Feet take me up)_

_I'll bet you'll hear the sound_

_Of the cry when my_

_Feet take me up to the high cliffs_

_Sound of the drums my heart_

_Rocks and waves _

_That broke the small skiffs_

_Here will make a start_

_I'm listenin'_

_On this knife's edge_

_Cold and oh so sharp!_

_An' that voice says to me_

_Soft and slow_

"_Don't look down_

_Don't look down_

_Don't look down_

_Honey,_

_Don't look down_

_The ground is warm_

_Under your feet_

_The air is so very cold_

_The clouds are grey with_

_Ice and sleet_

_And I am so very old."_

_The old one laughs!_

_Sayin'_

"_Come on down_

_Come on down_

_Come on down_

_Baby,_

_Come on down_

_And I'll put you down _

_In the ground._

_With the old souls_

_Down in the ground_

_Into the arms of the earth_

_Honey, come on _

_Down in the ground_

_And the hard-soled god_

_Will lay a lavender wreath_

_Lavender wreath_

_Lavender wreath_

_The hard-soled god_

_Will lay a lavender wreath_

_Right down over_

_Your burial mound, my sweet."_

Kattala fell silent as the funeral procession drew near, relatives in black carrying a casket draped with red velvet. She hastily got off the grave marker before they noticed, brushing out the skirt of her black dress.

Elsra had had a long life, five children and a few dozen grandchildren. She'd hailed from Stonewall before she'd moved north to marry her clockmaker husband. During Elsra's life, Kattala had seen her patiently working as a teacher in the Kakariko school, teaching music and dance. Elsra had always looked upon Kattala with a look of disgust, but she'd been warm and kind to any other child, so Kattala was looking forward to speaking with Elsra Hepwort in death. The deceased always came round eventually, with only Kattala for company and conversation.

Now, surrounded by friends and family, the coffin was laid in the earth by the menfolk. Mashnuts were thrown into the grave, to symbolize fertility, of returning the body to the earth. The funeral songs were chanted, as the local priestess blessed the grave and the stone marker.

A second spirit nudged up against Kattala's cheek like an affectionate cat, perching on her shoulder.

_New new!_ It whispered, confused, _Ground has been disturbed. Shall we chase off? _

Kattala caressed it with her magic. _No, _she sent back, _New ghost for the graveyard. It is good._

_Good?_

_Yes._ That seemed to satisfy it, and the shade returned to its grave. A chill wind blew off of the mountain, and the young mage-in-training shivered, regretting not bringing a thicker coat.

One of Elsra's closest friends had been Melbina Surri, Tangle's aunt – the same sour-faced woman who coveted the Tangle manor and leyline station. She squinted in the bright afternoon light, her face powder-white, lips and cheeks rouged, her eyes heavily made-up. At seventy-two, she was the youngest of Tangle's uncles and aunts, and already she resorting to glamours to keep her face young. eighty was still young for a mountain elf, but Melbina ought to have the beginnings of lines around her eyes and mouth by now. There was not a wrinkle to be found, but not even beauty spells could hide the sour downturn of her plump lips, or the glitter of avarice in her pale eyes.

At last the blessings were said, and the grieving party left, letting the Dampe and the gravedigger who assisted him fill the grave with dirt. A carefully cut piece of sod was rolled out to hide the rectangular patch of bare earth, and stamped down as decorously as possible.

With the Link-like spirit tucked into her overdress pocket, Kattala knelt to lay a bouquet of star-of-the-mountain at the base of the conical grave marker.

"Hallo, Elsra." She said softly, feeling the newly-deceased soul ripple sleepily, only just beginning the process of separating from her body, "Welcome to your resting place. I'm sorry there's no afterlife for you, nothing to do but haunt the graveyard. The Mad God never saw the necessity of an afterlife, I'm afraid. But that's not as bad as it could be, so chin up. We – me and Dampe – keep the yard right tidy, and don't forget nobody. I'll plant flowers for you come springtime, and pour libations on the holy days. Your name is on the list of souls now, and the temple priests will read your name every Godsday. So you won't be forgotten, don't you worry. And when you've left your body all the way, you'll be able to talk to me, and I'll listen long as I can. You can teach me songs, and how to dance the twit-and-dog. And it won't be as fun as life, but you'll be right as you can be."

"What are you doing here, Katerin Ferres?" Great-Aunt Melbina inquired frostily from a few feet away, plucked eyebrows raised. "Lurking about like a crow up to mischief, I think."

"Oh, no, Aunt Melbina," Kattala said with innocent alarm, "I was just paying my respects to poor Madame Hepwort, her being a great lady when she was alive, and a pillar of the community besides."

"Indeed." Melbina's pale blue gaze inspected her sharply. "She did not care for you in life. Why should that change in death?"

"Loneliness?" Came the girl's reply.

"There is no room for such feeling in the blessed afterlife, Katerin. So the Goddesses have decreed."

"The lady is fresh and buried, Great-Aunt. Perhaps she needs more time to rise. And I like flowers. I thought they would add some cheer to the place, mayhap." She pulled out a handful of star-of-the-mountain from her overdress pocket, pale silver blossoms and delicate green vines. "These would look good in your hair, since it's so dark." Kattala offered a few blossoms as a peace offering.

Melbina looked taken aback, her frown softening.

"Perhaps a few." The older woman allowed. "I am to visit Lady Eleni this afternoon. It is time I found a new husband."

Kattala nodded, little paws already weaving vines together nimbly. Melbina pinned the chain of flowers to her shining black curls, pinning a blossom at the black lace throat of her gown.

"That looks fair, it does, Great-Aunt." Kattala said quietly. Her aunt looked thoughtful.

"You are kind, child. It is a pity you don't have noble rank, little one, or you could wear a veil to hide that unfortunate nose." Melbina stated with a curious look in her eyes, adding, "Has your father allowed you to speak in that hideous accent after all these years? You would do well to speak clearly."

Kattala blushed and ducked her head so the woman could not see her humiliation.

"And a graveyard is no place for a well-bred girl, however ugly and foreign. Have you no chaperone?"

Kattala bit her lip, and said in reply, "My father trusts me with Master Dampe, Aunt."

"I see I shall have to speak with your father about this. Come, little one. That gravekeeper is strange, mark my words."

"Yes, Aunt… may I say my farewells to him? I can't up and leave so quick, like… that."

"Very well. Be quick about it, child."

Kattala bobbed her head and trotted over to the elderly gravekeeper, who was beginning the weekly processional with the incense thurible. She patted the pocket with the spirit in it.

"Time to go back, Link. You're lucky the leyline you hit didn't kill you straight out, you are. Good thing I caught you since that line knows me. I'll find you again when I get the chance. Promise. But don't hit the line again – only the Mad God knows as what wandering shade might take over your living body while your soul's away. Take care, dear." She kissed Link's soul and sent him flying back through the vast network of leylines to his waiting body.

* * *

Link gasped as he woke up in his body, winded after so long and fast a journey. His muscles were stiff from being still for so long. He rubbed feeling back into his limbs, picking himself up off the stone floor from where he'd collapsed.

Had he just gotten sucked into a leyline?

He got onto his knees and peered into the large hole he'd broken into. A light glowed feebly from within. So much for a handhold there. He would have to carve a ladder of holds on the other side of the wall near the shaft.

Suddenly there was a new resource in his limited arsenal. He could send a message out – and someone could rescue him. Or at the very least start digging down from above. And somehow Kattala knew where he was, and could send his spirit _through_ the leylines!

Could the legends be true? Could people actually travel physically through the lines and still survive?

What to do? Link needed to eat, and then think for a very long time. Hope flared in his chest, and he found himself smiling. He wasn't alone anymore – Kattala had remembered him, could be with him now, if only in spirit.

* * *

Jon fidgeted, nerves raw.

"Go on. Begin your tale."

Jon glared at Ganondorf's encouragement, who sighed.

"Young man, I owe you my life four times over. Nothing you can say can use up more than one of those."

"All right," Jon allowed, and began to tell the king about his life, how his mothers had thought themselves barren until his bloodmother had conceived, how the midwife who'd confirmed Anamara of the Weaver was indeed pregnant, and with twins. But when she went into labor, only one child had come out. His fathers had been busy guarding a rather volatile town that had a diamond-mine in westernmost Province of Arryn. His bloodmother herself was a dedicated teacher, so he had always been closest with his heartmother, who enjoyed weaving – hence his clan's name.

His uncanny and growing resemblance to the Hero Thereo was noted throughout town, to the detriment of his bloodmother's reputation. It was for that reason that when Dark turned four, he was paired with three-year old Ferrick Keen, who was rapeget and ill-loved in his own clan. He'd never really minded having a younger bond-mate since Rick had always been an early bloomer, growing faster than a normal child. The situation at home in Rick's clan had grown so untenable that Rick had moved in permanently with the Weaver clan by the time he was nine. Growing up together while sleeping in the same bed had led the two to sexually experiment together throughout puberty, as was natural for pair-bonds, but Dark and Rick had been unusually close.

Patcheem boys were taught to fight early on – but Dark had a tendency to go into berserker rages when pushed too far. Rick was the only one able to calm him down, and the younger boy noted when Dark was in a rage he spoke and held himself differently – used different fighting techniques than Dark had been taught.

Dark had been the one to label the rage as a person he called 'the Monster'. He did his best to stay in control, but sometimes there were slips. Rick was the only person the Monster _liked_, which was saying a lot, as the Monster didn't even think much of Dark, or Jon, now that he'd changed his name.

Jon spoke of how he didn't dream like normal people – instead he relived the Dreamer's memories while he slept.

He spoke of how he'd never felt at ease in Patcheem, that he didn't enjoy fighting, especially since it brought out the Monster more frequently.

Finally, he spoke of turning sixteen, and being shipped out as a cadet to guard a chain of travelling caravans.

"I met your son early in spring," Jon said, "Link of the Gerudo. He was a nice enough fellow, if a bit fond of his secrets. He left us midway through the journey, just made off in the night. I haven't heard of him since."

"I see." Ganondorf replied.

"The caravan continued South, but we were attacked, and my Rick was killed. I couldn't stand living a soldier's life after that, so I headed south and ended up here. I changed my name. I was a stable boy for a few months, until Yelen found me. I've been studying healing ever since."

"Tell me, Jon Kilresey," The Gerudo King said slowly, "Have you changed your allegiance along with your name?"

Jon shrugged. "No allegiance to anyone except myself and those I like. I don't like watching people die. But you're asking if I'm a spy for the North. I'm not. The King can take his taxes and his endless need for using men as cannon fodder and shove it this far up his-" He gestured, and Ganondorf grinned. "But you won't see me fighting for secession either. I just want to be left alone."

"Jon Kilresey, I will be happy to leave you alone, along with everyone in Wickment. When I reach my destination, I'll send a troop to guard the town. I will leave yourself all alone, but for one objection."

"What?" Jon inquired sharply, red eyes narrowed.

"I must insist that after you achieve your Mastery in Healing, that you attend one of the South's universities to become a full Doctor of Medicine."

"With what money?"

"I am a _king_, young Master Kilresey."

"Fair enough." Jon said in acceptance, then paused to think, "But wait. Could you send Elys to school as well? Her family's in a poor condition, and she's very kind, and smart. She helped with your recovery as well as Mistress Yelen."

"A full dowry for the girl, and I'll see what I can do for your Mistress. Although she seems to be doing quite well for herself here." He looked admiringly around the well-kept surgery room. "She must care for the more difficult cases in the area besides just this town. This house belongs to no mere hedgewitch or midwife."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"It will be my pleasure. Now, come, you have told me your life's story. Let me tell you mine, although it will be much longer than yours.

"My story does not begin with my birth. It begins with the birth of my people, the Gerudo, and before even that, the settling of this country now called Hyrule.

"Hyrule did not always exist in isolation, although its surrounding mountains, marshes, desert, and stinking swampland beyond the Lost Woods kept most nations out. The curious slipped in through the mountain passes, paddled in from the marshes, braved the desert to see what lay within. These parties stayed mostly apart, or turned back. If you had looked at a map in those days, the outside world would have a hazy blank space titled 'Wilder-want', for few had been there and still returned. Five thousand and five hundred years ago, a great temple city was built in Quesal, in the heart of what is now Crimen. The people who built it called themselves the Slensina, and they were an industrious, harmonious people. They called themselves humans, and their skin was brown and their ears round. They settled in and around Lake Hylia, and they were prosperous.

"Centuries later a great ocean storm wracked the coast of the southern side of the great continent, driving a group of Shadow-Walkers through the Haunted Wasteland and into this country. They intermarried with the Slensina in today's Lakeland Province, and over the years three groups emerged. In the south-western shore of Lake Hylia dwelt the Gerudo, who worshiped the Sun, and called themselves the Children of the Sun. In the northeastern shore dwelt the Mahoya, who called themselves the Children of the Stars. And in the fertile land between lake and plains dwelt the Sheikah, who had descended from both Shadow-Walker and Slensina, and called themselves the Children of the Moons.

"The three nations lived in peace, sharing the temple city Quesal as the holiest of holy sites in all of Southern Hyrule. The Plains between the mountains and the Lakeland was left unsettled, for great storms frequently ripped across them, fueled by the warmth of the One Ocean south and west of the Haunted Wasteland. The People of the Sky were unique in that they received power from the sun, moons, and stars rather than the earth itself. Peace reigned, and the three Peoples of the Sky took from the land only what could be given back. The dead remained at rest, appeased by the rites performed in Quesal. The Golden Age lasted for three centuries, until a greedy man of the Sheikah people waged war against his Mahoya neighbor, coveting the well that was on that man's land. The petty feud led the man to kill his neighbor. The murder led to a blood feud that could not be resolved between the two families. Family turned settlement against settlement, and finally, the Sheikah people waged war against the Mahoya. The Gerudo demanded the matter be resolved by the spirits at Quesal, but the Sheikah refused to listen, and continued to attack the Mahoya."

"And then one day there was no Mahoya people, only a few survivors who had fled to the Gerudo. The High Priestess decreed that the Sheikah, once an enlightened People of the Sky, were to be cast out of Quesal, their dead to wander the world without rest or satisfaction. No longer would the Sheikah pay tribute to the spirits of rain, of light, good earth, and the spirits of all living, growing things. No incense and resins were to be burned at the Temple, no oracles told or bones broken, no songs of praise uttered by their mouths, no garment could be dyed holy purple from costly snail shells. The spirit of the Lakeland turned against the Sheikah, and turned their eyes the fire of rubies, the red of the earth they had needlessly stained with blood. Even now no Sheikah can bring trees to bear fruit in the land of the Mahoya.

"Cast out, the Sheikah settled in the storm-torn Plains, always travelling with the herds of antelope that live in the grasslands. The Sheikah divided into tribes and began to war with each other. Determined to keep the Sheikah raiding parties at bay, the Gerudo built a wall between the natural border of the Imally forest and the southernmost reaches of the Backbone Mountains that lay between the lake and the desert. Sentries were posted along the wall, which stretched from present-day Slainway all the way to the northernmost part of Lakeland Province.

"The world turned, centuries passed. The Sheikah spread out across the Central Plains, raiding less and less, still the bitter enemies of the Gerudo. They gravitated to the Zora River, but built no permanent cities.

"In the heart of the Gerudo territory our people continued cultivating the land, growing spices in the islands of the Lake, building temples to the sun with fine-stained glass, priestesses in holy purple and silver. Our scholars studied the natural world and the stars, the nature of magic and of people themselves.

"But history moved on outside our isolated part of the world. The Great Devouring Wars rent empires apart, small principalities swelling with new conquests, nothing but endless war and turmoil. Even barren Idre - a vast tundra in the center of the continent – could not escape the bloodshed.

"A thousand White Elves and three tribes of Shapeshifters who dwelt in Idre appealed to three wise women Sainted by the Mad God, the God who made all the world. The three Saints, Din, Nayru, and Farore, led their supplicants to Azavaire, for that was what the People of the Sky had named their homeland. The three women spoke with both Sheikah and Gerudo – and a treaty was worked – if the Saints would wall off Azavaire from the rest of the world, the elves and shapeshifters could live in the vast mountains and forests. The Plains were to be left to the Sheikah, and the South, with its Lake and red earth, for the Gerudo.

"It was acceptable to the refugees, and the treaty was signed and enshrined in the Temple at Quesal three thousand years before this age. And so it was for two millennia, the Gerudo in the heart of the South, the Elves in the mountain keeps, the Shapeshifters hiding themselves away in the wilderness, and the Sheikah scraping a living from the barren Plains.

"But those Plains changed with the closing of the borders. The Sea-storms ceased to wrack the central steppe, letting them flower with grain and fruit trees under the hands of the slayers of the Mahoya. The leylines scattered across the country connected to form a web, fit for the outsiders to draw from, they who drew power from the earth, while the Gerudo drew strength from the sun, and the Sheikah from Luna and Seles.

"The hearts of the White Elves grew bitter and greedy in the high valleys. Even then, their love of honor and purity held them in check. It was not so for the fifth son of the Elf king Handen, who ruled the mountains above Arryn. Harkinian was his name, and he had no love for duty, and honor. He was given Hag's Peak Valley as his barony, a hard life for any elf. He coveted the richer land in Hightop Valley, but knew it would never be his, for his elder brothers were many, in numbers and in the men they ruled. Harkinian turned his gaze then upon the green lowlands that were rightfully that of the Sheikah tribes.

"He saw what he wanted, and weighed it with his duty to his people. No, I say he never once considered it. As soon as his mind was made up, he told his people to pack their livelihoods and turn to the lowlands. Those who did not leave with him starved that winter with no lord to care for them and their concerns.

"I needn't bother tell you of Harkinian's story – you are Hylian. You know the story. But there are many sides to a story, many that go untold because the winner wish not to have those worse stories told of them. The Firebirds accepted the elf-chieftain, but other tribes did not. The Flat Mouths wished to treatise with him, and even sent riders South to Quesal to obtain a copy of the Founding Treaty between the White Elves, the Shapeshifters, and the People of the Sky, witnessed by the Three Saintly Goddesses. The Treaty said that no elf should have dominion over the lowlands, which would always belong to the Sheikah.

"Harkinian read it himself, and rejected it.

" 'This was of the age before, and times have changed much. People must take victory for themselves, and defeat is for the weak. What need have people for treaties unless they be weak? By the favor of the Goddesses do I win by strength of arms, and it is through their disfavor with you that you cleave to me. I say that cunning words and other sorts of trickery are the lowest weapon a man has to him.'

"And Harkinian looked upon the works of the Goddesses, the founders of Azavaire, not this country a ravening elf-beast made a mockery by calling High-Rule, and pissed upon it. Not long after he defeated and killed the Flat Mouths, and captured the rest of the Plains for himself and the traitorous Sheikah who followed him.

"Five hundred years later, the Kingdom of Hyrule had conquered or assimilated the Sheikah population, and turned their sights upon the South. Again the Treaty was brought out, and ignored. The Hylians slaughtered every single Gerudo male, and dismantled the Temple at Quesal until not a single brick remained where it had been laid millennia ago."

"So that's what Elys means when she says the South is the land of the Sky." Jon commented. "The South says it belongs to the Gerudo – the Sky people – so the Hylian King has no power over it."

"Yes." Ganondorf didn't meet Jon's red eyes, choosing instead to watch a songbird in the eucalyptus trees out the wide windows. "The movement began in Imally. People were tired of the taxes, and the overseers of the big farms, and abuses towards indentured servants.

"At first, support was shown by the symbol of a rising sun. Then the worship turned to that of Din. Before long the overseers were circumvented, the hedgewitches sent their apprentices to the Universities to steal Northern magics. There were small uprisings here and there over the last century that were crushed quickly and hushed.

"Fran the Bastard was the one who contacted me to consult on a true revolution of the South. A sustainable movement that could actually be successful. I was reluctant at first. My people's territory had just entered the protection of the King. But it soon became clear the King does not care overmuch for the people he is meant to watch over, nor much for duty. His daughter is a bright fierce lass, Ganhala's Sheikah blood runs true in her despite showing elvish."

By 'showing elvish', Ganondorf referred to the phenomenon of a mixed-race child only taking after one race.

"The King and the nobles in the Capitol see only her maidenhead, to be given to the man chosen to be King through marriage. They would crush her spirit, when she could be great. The northern lords and the King, much like Harkinian, seem only to understand victory and defeat, thinking that might confers right."

"So the South must hand over such defeat to the North that it shakes the idea of secession straight through and out their thick skulls." Elys said from the doorway, a laden tray propped up against her hip. "I didn't listen long, but I heard enough to cotton on. It's time for luncheon, King Ganondorf."

"Excellent, my dear girl. Who would you be?"

"Elys Miriam Tedal, your Majesty. Of Briarsedge."

"You needn't call me 'Majesty.' With this battered nose I'm in no way majestic. 'My Lord' will do."

"Yes, my Lord. "

"Very well then, Miss Tedal, what do you have for me today?" Elys went pink.

"Cream of tuber soup, and fresh rolls, my Lord. Fruit juice too."

"That sounds most appetizing. You have my thanks."

Elys laid the tray on the side table usually used for surgery tools. She curtsied as well as she could, and excused herself.

Jon took the pitcher and poured two full cups of sweet juice, divvying the rolls and soup out carefully. Ganondorf sipped his drink gingerly, sighing in satisfaction as it quenched his thirst. He ripped a roll apart, dipping the chunks in the rich creamy soup.

"My mothers –yes, there are two of them – they were sorceresses. My motherline has a tendency for twins – and my mothers were quadruplets in the womb, identical to the last hair on their heads. Two babes were stillborn, but Koomeh and Kootakeh survived. For this they were gifted with foundational magic – what the Hylians and elves call academic magic.

"This magic is powerful, more potent than that of individual magics, more universal than racial magic. It comes only to those whose twins – the second part of their soul – have been torn from them by death."

Ganondorf paused to chew carefully, savoring the simple food before swallowing. He took a deep draught of juice then continued.

"My mothers never spoke much about what had happened in their lives before me. I only learned after their deaths that they had failed the Ordeal every Gerudo girl must undergo to be considered a woman. They left our people to study magic at the mage's University in Crimen. They returned to the Fortress upon achieving their Mastery.

"My mothers never parted from each other. Neither ever took a wife, or ever expressed an interest. I wonder if any Gerudo woman would have had accepted the suit of either of them. They were completely devoted to other, in every way. But they kept their incest secret.

"I don't know how old they were when they decided they wanted a daughter to teach. My mothers were anything but nurturing – but they liked the idea of leaving a continuing mark on the world, of having a child who worshipped them.

"They wouldn't settle for just anyone, of course. And a man from Parchen wouldn't do. My mothers used magic to appear as proper Hylian beauties, and travelled to the Rosethorn, where some of the oldest nobility likes to retire for a season.

"King Rolens was on the throne then. He had three sons, all grown – Daren, Rolens the second, and Daphnes the fourth. Daren had two children – the prince Coren, and the princess Dalia. Daphnes was still seeking a wife at that time, but he was in no rush since he was the youngest son of Rolens.

"Rolens the second was in Rosethorn at the time. He liked to dally with the local women so any heirs he had were illegitmate. He was said to be a very handsome man, but with little charm.

"I don't know how they arranged it, but my mothers lured him into their rented room at a wayhouse. After plying him with wine heavily laced with dreamweed, they seduced him. They kept him tied up for three days, copulating with him while the dreamweed was in effect. When they were done with him, they cut his throat and fled through the leylines back to the Gerudo allotment.

"His seed kindled in their wombs. They gave birth in the Wasteland, fourteen months later, the usual period of confinement. One babe from each woman, yet identical. They couldn't tell us apart. My brother died in the night of the same disease that kills all male Gerudo infants. I suppose I was born with something he didn't have, because I lived. I thrived.

"They raised me together in a tent in the Wasteland, never leaving except to buy new supplies. There were enough carcasses and lost souls in the desert to fuel a lifetime of necromantic studies. My mothers were not… tender-hearted. Or particularly patient women. I suspect that if my foundational magic had not had such potential, they would have left me to fend for myself in the wastes. How do you Hylians say it? …They did not spare the rod when I failed their expectations.

"I was eleven when the Hylian soldiers tracked my mothers down for the murder of Prince Rolens. There was no trial. There was no need for one. My mothers readily admitted they had killed him. We were marched to the Fortress, where my mothers were hung. The Gerudo women burned the bodies, and scattered them into the wind, far out into the desert.

"The women of the Fortress took me in. The Queen herself raised me. Such a sudden departure from living in the restless barrens, to living in uncountable luxury. I did not handle the change well. The Queen spoiled me as she had spoiled her daughter Tabiya. My magic was strong – for all their faults my mothers knew their craft well. It was the only thing that got me through the Ordeal of Kingship.

"The King's Ordeal is not the same as the Woman's Ordeal – that which all Gerudo girls must overcome to be fully adult. Preparations for this trial begins upon puberty – with the girls' first menses. There is little preparation for a King. I was taught a wanderer's song that named the landmarks I was to follow, the star paths.

"Then I was sent out into the Wastes at the age of twelve, told only to return at the proper time. When I asked when the proper time would come, the Queen said I would know when.

"I followed the star paths at night, slept in what little shelter I could find during the day. I walked and walked, following the rising sun. The last mountains of the Curled Backbones extend into the desert, but are little more than crags and rolling dunes anchored by tough grasses. I climbed them, and continued on my way. The rock and sand gave to cracked earth and hardy shrubs. I came to the edge of Azavaire, the border no elf has ever seen. Only the most potent magic wielders can pass the boundary, and so I was able to pass. When my hide sandals were worn to tatters, I wove new ones out of the abundant grasses that littered the vast plains that lay beyond the desert crags.

"I saw strange beasts there, horses that were not horses, antelope three times larger than the ones in our Hylian Plains. Great frilled lizards that stalked after the herdbeasts much like a ridge-cat might hunt a fawn or wolf-pup. Halfway across the grasslands I saw the sea for the very first time.

"The people of Hyrule think Lake Hylia is vast. Compared to the other lakes, it is. But the sea, the One Ocean is infinitely larger. The water there is sweet, not fresh. Lake Hylia is so clear you can see the lakeweed forests at the bottom even at the deepest depths. The One Ocean is blue as finest sodalite, the waves capped with ivory foam. The beaches on Old-Region Lienna are made of powdery white sand.

"The grasslands grow on fertile loess soil, and the flourishing farms bring flat coastal Lienna most of its wealth. When my food ran out, a farming family – the Oxemans - took me in as an extra hand for the harvest. The patriarch and his sons were my first encounters with friendly males. I had only those Hylian soldiers and officials for comparison.

"It was paradise! No one judged me by the color of my skin or eyes. The land was fertile and kind, the vista of seaside two hours' ride away. Their only expectation of me was to do as I was told, and when I made mistakes I was corrected gently, without scorn.

"Why would I ever wish to return to Hyrule? Gerudo Kings are raised from birth to rule. All I knew how to do was herd the hair sheep my mothers kept for their flesh, milk, and blood. I didn't even know how to read. How could I begin to be a good King?

"I was with them for a year. I had grown close to the Oxemans, so much so that a marriage to one of the younger daughters was to be held when we were of age. In the next year blight struck the wheat. Then came a spring of whooping cough. We lost most of our wealth paying for the healer to make his calls for the sick ones. The stricken fields were never planted because we were too busy tending the bedridden and couldn't afford to keep the hired hands who were themselves ill. I am made of very hardy stock, so I was never badly hit. As a male Gerudo that lived past infancy, I must have some kind of resistance to disease that the other male babes never had.

"It got worse – people never die of starvation. It's the illnesses they catch when so weak which claims them. I worked so hard to bring in enough to feed us all, but there was nothing left to entice the healer to help."

"I was sixteen when I buried the last of the Oxemans. I sold the house, the farm, the animals, the tools, the furniture. The blight had hit the whole area we'd lived in, so I had to sell these off for a pittance. But there was enough money to equip me for my return to my people. I vowed then I would be a good king. I would not let my people die of starvation like the Oxemans had.

"I set out for the border of Azavaire, but the way out of Azavaire is easier than the way in, I'm afraid. But that is a story for another day, when my strength returns. Come now, I would be most grateful if you brought me something to quench my thirst after so much talking."

* * *

How sorely I have neglected you all! To be fair, Stats for Psychological Research sucked out my soul. Ah the spectre of Real Life. I got stuck on Ganondorf's story, and only recently reached a breakthrough.

The rest of Ganondorf's story is coming, I promise you all. I will never, ever abandon this story. I might postpone, I might turn to another short project momentarily – my latest is a children's book I hope to send out within the next year once I find a willing illustrator. But upon my honor as a storyteller, _I will finish this._


End file.
